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.