Anxiety\'s story

I let my eyes paint my day
The careful strokes create a sense of dismay

The pious tentacles of my mind wrap around my neck,
leaving not a mole or a speck

Angry with me, the tentacles allow the mould to creep in
the childhood questions, the fears, the oppression

She’s asking, are you laughing or crying?
respond to her, the tentacles say, sighing

He asks, why does your heart strangle your mind?
respond to him, the tentacles say, prying

My organized confusion collects itself
every obstruction to my decisions highlights themselves

A feeling of trap,
No.
I am trapped,
In this forever loop of my minds self-harm