On Anxiety (a poem)

If I were to talk about my anxiety,

I would tell you that it’s not mine–

But it calls me its owner.

At times it keeps me captive,

Some nights it makes me cry,

Some days it makes me frown,

But at night it becomes light,

It makes me write–

And never holds me tight.

At times it’s a bitter lover–

Blames me for everything,

Never makes sense of anything.

If I were to tell you about my anxiety–

I would tell you that it wraps me around its arms,

At night it feels warms,

At noon it makes me cry.

If I would tell you about my anxiety,

I would tell you that it made me want myself more,

To write letters to myself

To deliver myself from the depth of insanity.

If I were to tell you about my anxiety

I would tell you that it makes me numb

To pain–

Puts me in constant panic

Reminds me of past ills,

Makes me hard to love.

If I would tell you about my anxiety,

I would tell that it is not mine:

I would tell you that it is like a virus,

I would tell you that it is like a demon.

 

If I were to talk about my depression,

I would tell you to spare your sympathy,

For someone worth saving.

Because I am not a rescue project:

I am a wild fire.

I consummate and change.

I am a battlefield.

I am beaten.

I am a war-zone.

I am bloody and not worth saving–

If I were to tell you about my anxiety

I would tell you it keeps me going.

Published by

Belo M

Black & Conscious| Education Enthusiast|Feminist|Chimamanda's Day1 |Entertainer & Blogger |

3 thoughts on “On Anxiety (a poem)

  1. I loved reading not only this poem but many of your blog posts. This is such a fantastic poem, that really is able to move the senses as you read more and more. I really loved how you talk about it how it is not a part of you, how it does not define you, how you are your own person instead, because this is true! It is an uninvited addition but does not complete who you are.
    Well done!

    Like

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