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Read Poems by Sarah Broun

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Below are poems written by poet Sarah Broun. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.

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My life as a teenager with anxiety part two

Well now it’s time to head home. The dreaded ride back to my hole. I slide into the car and have the usual conversation with mom. How was school? Fine. We arrive home and I slink back into my room, set my things down and finally eat something. I relax a bit, but only I don’t. My mind is racing about all the things I have yet to do, I’m laying in my room watching videos on the internet but my heart is racing, I start feeling sick and I just can’t take any of this any more. But I haven’t snapped yet. Nor will I ever because somehow my mind and body expand to hold in this stress and the thoughts that race through my mind, slowly driving me insane. By the time I've finished worrying I've gotten nothing done and it’s time to ‘sleep’. Only I can’t sleep, not even medication can stop the things my mind is telling me, what’s the weather going to be tomorrow, did you do your homework, no, yes, maybe, I need to sleep, but what if a masked murderer comes in and kills me? What am I doing with my life? What is life? If I end my life will it stop this useless voice in the back of my head? I lay there for hours until I fall asleep only to wake up an hour later before my alarm is set to go off, but I can’t go back to sleep so I lay staring at the ceiling. And it all repeats over and over and over again! Help me! I am a teenager with anxiety and it’s eating me alive!

Copyright © Sarah Broun | Year Posted 2015

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  1. Date: 4/8/2016 3:15:00 AM

    Sarah Broun, you've expressed yourself well, I enjoyed your poem. ~LINDA~
  1. Date: 7/3/2015 7:34:00 PM

    Hi Sarah, this is awesome, stumbled across this poem. Thanks for sharing. Have yourself a safe and Happy 4th of July.... Love SKAT
  1. Date: 2/23/2015 8:13:00 PM

    You tell a story with such freshness and reality that it soon attaches itself to our reality and we take partial ownership of the emotions poured forth. Emile. #7

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