Anxiety

25.

Nervousness,

Is a disease embedded in my veins,

Blackening my lungs,

      Shaking my legs,

            And shaking down the leaves of my reason tree,

Falling to the ground without the seasons beckon,

A disorder.

    Calmed only by pills,

           And deep breaths that my therapist,

                     Says will help gather air in my depleting lungs,

Drowning in my in-certainty,

          The deep breaths I take, choke,

                   The pills make things harder to swallow,

There is no cure for me,

       I am Anxiety,

              A product of an uprooted childhood,

                            I'll manage and dig up my soil,

                                         And till my rows and plant myself,

A more solid ground