Irony

 

Late, late.

Oh great,

people will see me entering.

They will look on

with eyes that grate.

 

The irony of anxiety,

slowing me down,

by making me panic.

Something should be happening

but all my focus

is on the voice in my head,

breathing is laboured

I want to curl up in bed.

 

Counterproductive panic sets in.

It makes no sense

the way I'm feeling,

making me feel uneasy.

The day was going so breezy

but now it's stalled to a halt.

I'm focusing more

on getting a hold,

I think my mind

has developed a fault.

 

Now I can't get moving,

I'm meant to have left an hour ago,

but that time just disappeared in a heartbeat.

Palpitations,

my panic stations on full alert.

Sad, emotions,

broken promises I'd made when...

I was okay?

Now it's like the day is turning grey

and the clouds have circled overhead.

 

The irony of anxiety,

It makes you look out of place.

When you get the shakes,

everyone looks as you quake.

The thing you feared is happening

because your fear has willed it,

Catch 22

A self-fulfilling prophecy come true.

 

Anxiety sits in the pit of your guts,

then it erupts,

spewing forth all bad thoughts.

It makes you lack trust

twists your brain

until it is turned to mush.

It sends messages to your head,

ends in a face of bright red

and that feeling

that you'd rather be dead.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle