It's killing me.
I'm it's prisioner and both its puppet master I let it control me.
Yes, it moves my hands and both my feet.
Some days it even stops me from doing what I love and sometimes it stops me from doing what I need to do .
My heart picks up in speed,
beat, beat,
anxiety.
It tells me I can't do this while I know I can.
It keeps me from trying because the thought of failure seems worse than not even reaching out my hands.
You can't do this and nope you can't do that.
Your awful it tells me then they start believing it too because that exactly
What I show that I'm unable even though I could do more if only they could see anxiety pulling my cords.
If only they could see that it's only the fear of failure.
Then I wish they would see me the true person I am under this cloak of anxiety.
In the end the truth is I've lost control and I just don't know how to grab a hold of the reigns.
I keep playing anxieties game hoping to gain control before the destruction it brings takes me down off my feet.
One day I'll grab the controls and not be controlled.
I already have ahold of the reigns,
Yet I'm still struggling to stop the horse from running.
Controlled until I'm set free.
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...
