The Feel of My Anxiety
Anxiety is like obsidian piercing my heart a thousand times,
As a king snake contracts against my tired heart muscles.
It can be as simple as a cheetah flying off the ground,
As it chases its prey with a wild, frantic need.
It can be a sledgehammer pounding against my brain,
Or a bunch of sharp nails messaging my eyes.
Anxiety is a hands that wrap around my throat,
As it begins it suffocates me with a crushing grip.
At times I feel like I've been shot by an arrow so deep in my arms,
As the pain shoots up and down, numbing my palms.
Or it can be as simple as the toilet calling my name,
Anxiety, oh, it’s never quite the same.
At times, it feels like it could one day be the end of me,
As obsidian pierces, the king snake constricts.
I struggle to be free,
But it still keeps chasing right after me.
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