Want to run, but I can't move.
Fear has paralysed me here.
Yelling, screaming,
telling me what to do.
I still don't know what to do.
Want to run, but I can't move.
Want to run, but I can't move.
Like feet stuck in quicksand now.
Thoughts and worries, predicting my future
without facts or evidence.
Want to run, but I can't move.
I can just barely breathe...breathe...breathe.
Remind myself to breathe...breathe...breathe.
Just in through your nose and
out through your mouth and
breathe...breathe...breathe.
Just breathe.
And they tell me, "It'll get better,
it'll get better."
They tell me, "Just stand up and do it anyway,
do it anyway."
But I can't breathe, smothered by
anxiety, anxiety.
I am falling, drowning in
anxiety, anxiety.
And I can't fight it or outrun it
because it's there in my mind
at all times and I can't stop
anxiety, anxiety.
I can't stop anxiety, anxiety.
I can't stop anxiety, anxiety.
I can't stop.
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Don't Talk About
Poetry***Trigger Warning: Mental health, mental illness, eating disorders, suicidal ideation, self-harm*** A collection of poems delving into the dark side of the human experience. From high highs to low lows, emotion can be intense. And this collection s...
