My heartbeat pounds,
Against my chest.
I make no sounds,
I get no rest.
I’m feeling kind of stressed.
My heart thuds, three more knocks,
Too anxious to be cognitive,
Except for that one paradox.
My feet cant keep up to my mind,
It’s the story of my life – I find.
It comes and goes in waves,
One day I’m flying to the moon,
And the next, the moon is crashing down upon me.
Then next, a coward’s all I see.
A judgement made too soon?
Which one is me?
I suppose it’s somewhere in between
Anxiety cuts like a knife
A bloodthirsty companion
Who will take your life,
By scaring you with phantoms.
Then draws a blade across your throat,
As your most reliable turncoat.
He’s the friend that has no soul –
But, he tells you he does it for you.
He only wants what’s best for you,
By leaving you in control.
By saving you from a future,
That’s yet to take a toll.
Those wounds are going to need some sutures
There’s no protection from what lies ahead.
Anxiety is full of lies that spread,
Like a malignant tumor,
For a worrying consumer,
One could just ignore it, instead.
Who am I without these worries?
With a lack of anticipation for life’s furies.
A lack of incredible inner tenseness,
More prone to react to consequences.
Less concerned to be prepared,
About what may never even be there.
Just another phantom,
Of my anxiety,
And begging me to be seen.
Only those who feel it, know exactly what it means.
You can read more of Mathew’s writing at Blog of a Wolf Boy