What is anxiety?
Is it but a name of an illness?
Am I it's proprietary?
If so how could anyone miss?;
All that goes on with me?
Can they not see?
My beating heart wanting to escape,
This doomly fate,
That is only but in my head,
As my horrors I have fed:
With my hopes and all my dreams,
It's what it seems.
Why can't others see the breath stuck mid chest,
Do I seriously look like the rest?
Breathing happily,
Carelessly?
Can't you see?;
This thing suffocating me?!
It doesn't even stop there,
As it covers my blank stare,
So nobody notices,
That it's main torture is;
Through using my own mind to drive myself insane.
And from this there is absolutely nothing to gain,
But hurt sadness and pain,
Making my existence nothing more important than a stain.
Why can't you see?
Why can't you help me...?