anxious

anxious,

It’s a quiet lazy pitch-black tunnel.

a private urge to fix yourself 

or be fixed by someone else’s hands,

It’s a doubtful dreams

Beautiful, glistening  with an abundance

of sweat droplets like glitter 

not radiant but repulsive.

anxious,

stong arms trying to scare you

stealing rest and self-love

a thousand times a day,

nonstop like your heart racing 

during a panic attack, yet

endless like the first night of winter

Waiting for the sun and that never seems to come.

My child don’t be anxious,

for this to will come to

a slow, but abrupt end

so please breathe and dream again

just don’t be

anxious.