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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.