Anxiety . . .

Anxiety  . . .

Every now and then I try to capture in words what anxiety feels like, I’ve yet to succeed. I hope when I do, it remains trapped, words upon a page I can fold up and be rid off . . . 

Chaos amidst calm.

I try
to understand,
to overcome,
but screams
of silence
no one else
can hear,
echo within me,
surrounding me.
They fill the air,
denying me
breath.

Inside I tremble,
falling to my knees
at the foot of despair,
pleading the silent
cacophony to end.

Afraid to open
my eyes and see
I’ve been seen,
my hidden fears
revealed.

Do they hear the
beating of my heart
racing to the edge
of my false reality,
threatening
to fail?

Do my eyes
reveal my angst?
Can they
see the sweat
glistening upon
my brow?

How can I fear
nothing?

I know
there is
something
to be feared.

I know
there is
nothing
to fear.

Still,
I crumble.

Around me,
normalcy.

Everything
the same.

Nothing
out of place.

Balance
undisturbed,
and yet . . .

It wells up,
flows through veins,
fills the heart,
clouds the mind,
squeezes the soul.

It is nothing,
yet I fear it
and the fear
consumes me.

A fear that has
not name
nor reason.

I find no refuge
until it’s taken
just enough
to leave me
a little more
shattered
than before,
fearing not
the fear itself,
but it’s
return.

Crystal R. Cook

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