Me and My Anxiety
If my mind were a war torn map and anxiety an invading force
A thorough search of my cerebrum would avail no remorse
Is there a hoard of grotesque assailants standing at the border
Or do I suffer from tensions dispensed by some mental disorder
None the less I attack first with nothing but the element of surprise
No weapon, no armor, no countrymen, just a crumbling enterprise
I swing my sword in the direction of the pale ghost filling the night
Cutting to ribbons the notion that I released a lost dog in the fight
Misfortune is mine as the battle rages in the back of my optical lobe
Fixated on the fact that there is a fixed fight at the end of the road
Without negligence I execute the figure who seems to be orchestrating
The darkened world in which I have been unsuccessful in navigating
With a cough of blood his mouth released a final exasperating word
A man cannot win when he cannot escape falling on his own sword
It took years of tears, torture, trials and tribulations for me to see
Thine own enemy I could not circumvent was me and my “anxiety”
Copyright © Plant A Tree Poetry | Year Posted 2017
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