Corrosive Dread


Calm, chill, charming,

That is what people see.

I present a facade of confidence.

Little do they know,

My insides are burning.

Most do not know of the fear,

The fear of the future.  

I am young and ready,

But I am scared and anxious.

Will I have a stable job?

What will I do?

Where will I go?

Will I live comfortably? 

Will I be able to support my family?

Will I just be another failure?

These questions in me burn, scald, and eat.

My stomach is dissolving in a pool of acidic anxiety.

It will move to my other organs, still hungry.

It will eventually eat away at my bones,

Leaving an empty skin.

Will I be able to support myself?

This anxiety is not me.

This anxiety is evil.

Yet, this anxiety is a part of me.

It will never leave.

I will always worry,

Worry myslef into oblivion.

This mask cannot fail.

It must not fail.

If my true self were released,

I don't know what would happen.

Another thing to fear.

This mask is not a shield against the world,

It is a shield against myself.

It is a way to trap and lock the dread away.

Then, I may live less constrained.

But this prison box I will carry,

From here to the mortuary.


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