It Started

It started

As a hole

I wasn’t sure

How deep or dark

          It will get

 

Doubt gets

Trapped and soon

It becomes a cavern

of boiling poison

It burns under my skin

waiting behind the flood gate

of my eyes

 

A mountain will grow above

It and become ominous to

Prevent people from discovering

the hollowness and instability

beneath  

 

Undiscovered species teem in

It’s murkiness

I drag one up by the tail

When someone asks whats wrong

 

But

It can no longer hide

Through poetry

I’ve begun examining petri dishes of

It on top of white paper

Where nothing can hide

 

It now has a name

Anxiety

Because of poetry, I got help. Because of poetry I will no longer suffocate from the fumes of the poison. Because of poetry, I am learning to grow crystals in the cavern.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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