I'm addicted to this drug called anxiety.
Some people say it's not as bad as meth or cocaine.
But yet it can kill just the same.
My hearts beating out of my chest.
I'm panicking.
I can't breath it feels like I'm stuck in an airtight cage.
Then comes the negative high from the intrusive thoughts.
"You messed up."
"They hate you."
"You're nothing."
Next comes the silent screams and tears that blur my vision,
let's not forget the shakes or the pain it causes me, physically and mentally.
But then they tell me to get over it,
that my anxiety is nothing when I could possibly pass out at any moment,
or lose my mind and my brain feels fried.
When will they see it's a unconditioned addiction?
That I didn't start this on my own,
it just came into mind and ever since then I paid the torment of its stress everyday.
A person with anxiety can only hope not to wear away from the worry
it's exerting into our bones.
But I know even the strongest addiction can be broken and I hope one day to live to see that day.
"I think people try to put off anxiety as a weakness, but what they don't realize it's really a strength to rise above the water without suffocating."
YOU ARE READING
Trio Of Words
PoetryPoetry from the corner of my little world. Another freestyle poetry book. "You finally saw that I was a puzzle piece that wasn't complete, but aren't we all when our emotions fall?" "So these are all things that keep playing back to me in poetry. A...
