10d • ✨ Poetry 🪄🌙 ✨
Anxiety
Just an anxiety attack?
No, it feels like a storm,
a raging tempest inside,
thoughts collide like thunder,
lightning strikes through the fog,
my mind a blank canvas,
yet it spills with colors of chaos,
a whisper soft yet insistent,
pushing through the din,
yet failing to quiet the clamor.
I sit, anchored,
yet adrift in a sea of spirals,
my breath lost in the swell,
the air thick,
like treacle caught in my throat,
my hands shake—
a symphony of nerves,
jittering percussion on my skin,
I grip the edges of the chair,
as if it might ground me,
anchor me in this tempest.
The voice within, odd and persistent,
a continuous drone,
it mocks and helps,
an endless loop,
repeating a refrain,
to stop overthinking,
yet all it does is amplify the hurt,
turn the volume up on every doubt,
every fear,
like a cruel passage in my own story.
What is this unraveling?
Will I rise again,
like the phoenix,
or will I sink,
like stones tossed into the depths?
Oh God, hear me,
I am tired—
not just weary,
but bone-deep exhausted,
my spirit frayed like old fabric,
threatening to tear,
to break apart.
I beg you for mercy,
to take this soul,
this restless mind,
to free me from shackles of thought,
from this prison of self-doubt,
this carousel of worry,
spinning faster—
no joy in the ride, only fear,
a dizzying descent into shadows.
Will I ever find solace,
in the quiet of the night,
among the stars that flicker,
like distant dreams?
Can I gather enough strength
to silence the incessant noise,
to breathe unshackled,
to feel the warmth of sunlight,
instead of the chill of dread?
I reach for the calm,
though it feels like grasping smoke,
vanishing as I touch it,
yet still, I hope,
hope for a day,
when stillness will cradle me,
like a tender embrace,
when I can sit without trembling,
without the weight of a thousand thoughts.
Who am I within this storm?
A survivor, a wanderer,
seeking a lighthouse,
some beacon,
to guide me back to the shore,
where the waves lap softly,
and the wind whispers dreams,
rather than screams,
where I can close my eyes and breathe,
in the peace that feels like home.
So take my plea,
an offering of faith,
a request for release,
please, oh God,
let me find my way,
beyond this tempest,
into the open skies,
where my soul can dance again,
unburdened,
alive,
free from the tumult—
where joy will finally stitch me back together.
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Anxiety
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