Everything is closing in.
I live in a castle, with gargantuan rooms
And regal tapestries
But, I’m feeling more like Rapunzel-
Trapped in a tower
In this state, I have no power
The more I perspire, the smaller things become.
I am trapped
Everything is just beyond reach-
Healing, Growth, Newness
I see it, but I’m sure that peace isn’t for me.
Anxiety is a bitch
An itch I’d rather not scratch
But like chicks in spring, it must come forth
It must be hatched
And with it, new terrors unleashed.
To the choir you preach,
So your sermons you can keep
Pardon me if I don’t try to escape
I’ve given that up as futile.
And no, I can’t stay for awhile-
I’ve made my peace
And accepted my fate
Anxiety will always be here and it has closed me off from life that I love
So I will just rest in this room that is too small and has become my coffin.
And, really, there’s no need for you to check in.
Just let that sink in…
Now, I ask, is that really so much a sin or more so me giving in?