Anxiety. My Favorite Demon Inside Of Me.

This tornado of thought is like a self brewed poison. 

A symbolism of toxic religion with it's self proclaimed steeple. 

A gospel of isolation and suffocation as I try to swallow my storm

Of pain in hope of taming it, just to end up spiraling in a whirlpool of my 

Own self deprecation and pity party humiliation. 

When did my reflection become the version me that I desired to be?

And the real me a horrible figment of insecurity and imagination?

I sing, "Tubthumping," at the top of my lungs like some sort of personal fight song to just keep going. 

Somewhere along the line I forgot about me as I helped you find you.

Have I ever had a definite answer as I helped everyone out like it was some 

Sort of fast spreading cancer?!

When I walked by the other day, you called me by another name and acted as you should be 

the one offended as I turned to walk away, just to keep from crying in pain.

 

It is hard to take back your soul when all you have known is chains and sugar coated sweet lies.

What is even worse is knowing that you have the key to be free of the false sense of responsibility. 

Yet you have to get through you, your own worst enemy. The boss level anxiety. 

Eminem's: "Palms are sweaty.....Mom's spaghetti...." JUST BREATHE!   

It's either straight off the edge or another trip over the sun of sorrow. 

What's it going to be? I said, "WHAT'S IT GOING TO BE?!"

Weak at the knees... Just breathe. (end scene) 

(Pictures are not mine. All rights to the writing belong to Ashlae Grisham 2022)