Anxiety Disorders
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She is not me; I am not her. Her voice shakes when she speaks, her screams are unheard. I live life on the edge while she stays in bed, and only moving around when she’s trying to get out of her head. Her mind is her home, her heart is a stone, a
A seventeen years fight.
With me, myself, and I.
A seventeen years match.
When will it end?
A seventeen years battle.
When will I gain the upper hand?
A seventeen years combat.
The cold and the confusion.
The overlooked and the overdoses.
The solemn and the silence.
The fatigued and the forgotten.
This is the only world I know.
My eyes decieve me like an illusionist decieves his audience. The slight of hand producing questions no mere mortal can answer. This magical state of mind driving a wedge through reality like a knife.
