Anxiety
Patience is a virtue,
Not one that I possess,
My psyche wants to do the work,
My body wants to rest.
It started in October,
A mere five months back,
But five months is a while
When you're pushed so far off track.
The twinges in my arms and jaw,
The tightness in my chest,
Sometimes I feel like I'm not me,
Like I've become possessed.
I don't know if I'll make it,
If I'll get out alive,
But, on my life, I'm going to try,
To help myself survive.
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