
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.