Best Social Anxiety Poems
I think love is a lot like us.
In truth, it's hard.
At least for me. To reach into my heart and pull each thought
Like some sort of note, to resort to the most simplistic of notion.
It all seems so simple.
To walk up towards the one we love and tell them how we truly feel.
At least for me.
To be honest I don't think it's entirely the thought of being rejected.
But the actual declaration and the realization that everything that you hope and dream
stares back at you and it's not reciprocated where imagination meets reality.
At least for me.
Reaching back into my heart and scrambling around for another note.
The small things in an ocean of thought that could go wrong.
The sudden rush of thoughts that prevent such circumvention.
The first step of telling you that I love you.
At least for me.
Seeing your face again, makes it so much easier.
Knowing that you would never let me drown
Social Anxiety *a short poem* smile emoticon
Author note: For those people who don't like reading! Let's face it - not everyone likes reading these days. I do like reading, but not love it...
I miss people far too much haha
If I only had more friends to hang out with during the week,
Would it make me happy?
Happiness from God is what I seek...loneliness doesn't have to be lonely, for it never made me weary or weak
It makes me so alive...
I'm a survivor! I'm braver
Than a bunch of body guards...
Or...at least I thought so, until social angstiety crept on in
On me day and night.
Gotta run away
I wanna hang around
My head all the way
In the without-a-sound ground
Silence is not bliss...
It's painful...nothing that I'll ever miss
When I turn 21, I may drink my life away
If not, wish me a sun-shining day...
Because I want to be happy
Happy
And forget about
Society anxiety
No added doubt
I wanna be free
- J W Earnings (David William Breidenthal)
The curfew of the liver - long gone.
The crowd - drunk, delusional, blank.
We were driving, standing still or worse -
both at the same time.
Howl time, bone time, penetration time
ticking slowly in shadows' breaths.
The war will never be over and
we finally get it.
A soul transplant,
an euthanasia of disfunctional dreams.
Do you still hear the crowd?
These mechanic voices of your mothers.
They whisper:
Shoot.
Whatever the case
Circumstance aside
I come to this place
I feel safe inside
I pull the doors to
I flip off the lights
Emotions accrue
As I sit down to write
Blank paper with ink
Safety surrounds
I easily think
With absence of sound
A moment for me
And no other soul
I set my thoughts free
Alone, I feel whole
My words evade me
Sweat forms in beads
My tongue betrays me
At lightening speed
Quivering knees
Disarm my stance
Panic breeds
The devil’s dance
Something akin
To mourning hope
Runs through my skin
I fail to cope
I babble more
To ease the hush
They must abhor
My need to rush
Attention Queen
Or rambling freak
I didn’t mean
To over speak
I’m afraid
That people take one look at me
And think I’m a freak.
Scars litter my arms
Thanks to self harm.
I’m afraid
Of what people think,
When I’m pushed to the brink.
Like a shipwreck
I sink.
Why do I care what other people think?
I’m afraid
Of prying eyes,
Tearing me to pieces
With their mind,
Spending so much time
Unraveling my lies.
I’m afraid
Of all these memories I’ve penned,
Of all the times I hit send.
All the emotions
Drown me like the ocean.
I have to learn
To be unafraid,
Because my dues to others have been paid.
I need to not care
What is said,
Here or there,
I’m not going to be afraid forever,
One day I’ll be fearless,
I will fear so much less.
I won’t conform to the mold
Set by others,
I’ll blossom,
Grow
And watch my life unfold.
I stand on the rocky shores of my island,
Waves crash towards my feet, foaming between my toes on the empty beach.
No Kings. No Masters. No Gods. Only I.
The shores were as barren as the land itself.
The shore froths from its mouth, suffocating in disgust at what it has become.
And I sneer with sadistic glee as it gasps its final breaths.
I see unidentified vessels approaching the wasteland I am bound to.
I balance between the pointy pebbles that pierce my sole.
I can vaguely see the shifting shapes sliding straight through the sea.
It is a fleet of individual sailors, looking to find claim on my barren bay.
My blood races, like an Olympian sprinter charging towards the flaming torches.
Yet, I haven't moved.
An electric surge courses through my body with the power of a metropolis.
Yet I haven't moved.
Senses heightened tenfold;
I can smell the salt oozing out of the sea,
I feel the air whistling in my ears from the east with a tickle,
the thirst tormenting the tip of my tongue,
the shriek of seagulls shattering my eardrums, and the detail of each and every ship, from port to starboard, is clear to me.
Yet, I haven't moved.
From this desired pit of despair.
I don’t know who they are.
I don’t know anyone’s name.
Not a friendly face around.
Not a single face I know.
This nervous beating in my chest.
How will I fit in with the rest?
People are all around,
which is why I feel so alone.
I wanna leave.
I need to go home.
Please don’t make me talk.
Please don’t make me stay.
Please just let me walk,
before I run away.
I’m searching for an exit.
Any escape will do.
Why was I left here by myself,
when I came with you?
You know I can’t handle this.
Me and people don’t mix.
The nervousness is winning,
the walls are closing in.
I don’t know this group,
I only need a friend.
You said you’d be a minute,
my watch says it’s been ten.
I’m worried now as more people show up,
and still no sign of you.
Freaking out, just short of hysteria,
is the best that I can do.
I can’t take it anymore.
I’m sorry I need to leave.
Being in this situation seems the worst thing for me.
Anxiety.
A feeling that overwhelms your senses.
Blood pressure rising. Breathing becoming uncontrolled. You feel it in your chest, a pressure so heavy you can’t help but give in. A pressure that consumes your mind, thoughts,your body. A feeling that takes over your senses. You feel in within yourself. Tasting the bitterness on your tongue. Choking on the acid before you can speak. You see it when looking at others. Hear their whispers as you walk the halls. Can’t help feeling judged, outcasted, different. You try to ignore it but your eyes wander. Seeing their smirks, hearing their chuckles. You beg it to stop but it won’t; it can’t. Because Anxiety is a fatigue within one’s mind. A fatigue that won’t go away with a snap of one’s fingers. Anxiety consumes. Obtains everything in its path. And there’s no stopping it until you face it.
With a dagger to my throat,
with what he uses to silence me,
my words don’t speak.
But my heart does.
It blows up and out—splat on the floor.
I can’t muster words,
for I have not been silenced, just robbed of my voice.
But I intend to get it back,
even if it causes me to burn.
I will stand my ground with amputated legs.
I will raise my voice,
even if there are no words to yell.
I will win everything back—
join amongst the devils,
just to prove to those who wronged me
that they never learned.
So easy they make it seem:
“They haven’t done anything to you!”
Exactly the issue.
They don’t do anything with me.
It may be a push to the road,
or a shove off a cliff,
but if they nudge me toward roaring lions,
to them I’ll be forever grateful.
You never get anything as you please.
That’s what makes life so disgustingly special—
an abhorrent case.
Unfair to all,
but more to some.
“But that makes you special!”
Does it really?
A child who yearns to see the light,
or a child with broken thoughts—
Tell me,
do either of us think we’re special?
All the years I’ve been burning,
and you wouldn’t dare to ask.
No amount of water can withstand,
my burning agony.
Day and night, my screams fall to deaf ears.
In a lake, I stood out as a whale—
massive, and undeniable—
yet no one ever batted an eye.
What a blessing it is to fit in.
What a curse it is
to blend in.
Loneliness lives in my bones.
People say get out of the house,
Be social and talk to a friend but
Crowds make it worse
Small talk sounds like chalkboard nails and
Sometimes..
I feel like
An alien invader outer-spacer
Hug evader
Human traitor
….Warmth betrayer.
Conversation is painful,
So pointless and empty.
99% of the time it makes me..
Cringe and
My legs hinge and
Voices buzz like bees around me and the air gets thick and sticky, I…
Fall to my knees, cover my ears try to cry out
but
I am alone.
How does a poet put his work on paper without pushing it away in disgust?
How does a man make a move without making a fool of himself?
How does a woman walk without worrying that she is being whispered about?
How does he hold his head high without hearing his head scream at him about his heinous acts?
How do they avoid the sad sickening spiral of worry which whips me about like a flag in the wind?
I don't want to recite this poem in front of you...
Probably not for the reasons you're thinking,
But what do I know of what you're thinking
For that matter
What do you know of me?
Sometimes I think I'm pretty witty with words,
But what if you don't think so?
I get so tired of trying to make people like me.
It's like trying to make your bed when it's already made,
Or cutting each blade of grass with toenail clippers
When you have a blade that spins at half the speed of an airplane.
That's around 250 mph for those of you wondering.
Yet I still choose to cruise with the snails with my nail clippers.
I've been learning a lot about myself lately.
I'm not sure if you care to know,
So I won't say anything.
But now I've got you curious to know
Don't I?
Ahh what do I know?
It's too unsafe to say,
But maybe if I keep playing with your expectations I can expect you to react a certain way.
What you don't understand is I was too afraid to show my face today.
I didn't want you to see every freckle
Every wrinkle
Ever hair set, or not set, in its place -
Whether I'm wearing makeup or not.
Probably not, for the record.
I hate making the time for it.
There's so much else out there worth my time.
See, I envision visions of timeless seasons and seasonless times
Where shame cocoons itself in radiating blankets of light,
And authenticity merged with love emerge together, beaming brighter than light itself,
And I myself have a part to play,
In weaving threads of love and hate
Because one doesn't exist without the other,
And somewhere in the middle is understanding.
What you don't understand about me
Is that I'm drowning,
But I can't figure which of you offer oxygen and which of you hold my coffin.
I'm dying for you to know me,
But that's all on hold
Until the marrow of my bones know how it feels to bear my own weight.
Until then, getting to know me will have to wait.
Me, I'm the weeping poet you see sitting in that swing
Worrying about being perceived
For I think I am what I am not
"Sensitive girl" don't tell me twice
I may be alone, but I've got voices in my head and they tell me what to believe
May be weak, but my emotions run as deep as the blood in my warm veins
I fear the only person who could know me best is myself
So I speak through the music in my mind and the pencil on my notebook
And I speak through the silence I give
For I am what I choose to be
Be quiet so you won’t be heard anymore. You might have heard this phrase growing up. Why do people think it’s their job to silence others and stop them from speaking freely?
Every spoken word should be heard, like a loud ringtone from a cell phone that signals someone is calling. Everyone deserves to be heard.
My grandparents and parents believed they should silence me as a poet when I was a child. At one point, I found it hard to speak up. People kept asking why I was so shy. Why was I afraid to talk to adults? My shyness turned into social anxiety. With my friends, though, I spoke confidently. Adults intimidated me because they used commanding language: “Be quiet so you won’t be heard anymore.”
As an adult, I struggle to follow orders or deal with condescension. Maybe that’s why I love writing so much. When I write, only I can hear my voice. It wasn’t until I shared my work that I let others see my thoughts. I had stayed silent for too long and held back my feelings for too long. I decided to confront those who silenced me with my own spoken words.
"Language is powerful; it is the greatest science. It captures the fullness, color, and diversity of the world and of people. It is more valuable than wealth, buildings, ships, religions, paintings, or music." — Walt Whitman.