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Anxiety
Stress blooms... a not so lovely flower,
and the tightening in my chest, is far from inviting.
My heart feels cold and yet afraid,
as terrified eyes fill with helpless tears,
try as I might, there is nothing for me to do.
Amusing myself is harder then it seems,
and tangled deep in the back of my thoughts,
it lingers there, a secret poison,
that someday might be my end.
My stomach twists and quivers, tying itself in knots.
Stress... accounts for the catch in my breath,
and the tightness in my tone.
My whole body is rigid underneath my skin,
hot with this almost-but-not-quite-rage.
My voice is sticking in my throat, and though I
want nothing more then to release it,
to let my screams fill the air, and flare across the sky,
I keep silent and hug my pillow tight, alone,
in the darkness of my room,
and if I’m disturbed, anger comes a touch too easily.
 Gore Princess · Mon Aug 13, 2007 @ 07:38am · 0 Comments |
