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”