Anxiety

Anxiety stood beside me,

clawing at my skin,

drawing blood upon the surface,

and she would not let me win.

The wounds that were created,

she left them open bare,

and encouraged Panic and Hatred,

to leave their salt tears there.

I cursed and cried and blamed her,

for all the things gone wrong,

but that only made her power grow,

and she sang her sickly song.

She told me of my weakness,

of all my crippling flaws,

of why they would not love me,

or why they’d hate me more.

I couldn’t help but listen,

the song was bittersweet,

and anxiety left me suffering,

begging at her feet. 

Author's Note

Any comments and reviews are greatly appreciated as I am new here and I would really like to hear what people think of my writing. Thank you

Reviews

[Kenaz]

Nice flow here. Many people deal with anxiety, I would venture to say that most poets have some anxiety problems. Sunlight and tree hugging usually helps me out. Is there supposed to be highlighting here or am I just hallucinating? If so, it's a cool effect on your centered poems but slightly off-putting on this piece.

[Kat Waugh]

Thank you for the review!

I completely agree with you, and sunlight helps me too. The highlighting was not intentional, I don't even know why it's there! I think its just because I copied it from another programme into this one. I'll have to try and remove it! Thank you.

[Luna Lovebad]

This is a beautiful poem and flows wonderfully. The imagery is powerful and the choice of words are perfection, you've got some serious talent in the poetry department.

[Kat Waugh]

Thank you- I'm glad you think so! Your review means a lot to me.