You’re suffocating,

unable to breathe.

Sweat beads down Your face,

Your heart thumping in Your chest.

You’re on the ground,

curled into a ball.

Drowning,

Dying.

You want to hit something,

anything,

Just to make the noise go away.

But You can’t.

The wave keeps coming,

crashing over You,

Drowning You,

until You’re nothing more than a scarecrow.

A fake grin,

a fake smile,

and forever frozen in time.

This is anxiety,

and it has a funny way of controlling You,

of keeping You from being you.