POEM: Anxiety

 "Anxiety"  

This is no poetry.

It’s you, staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m.

You can't sleep.

A racing heart for no clear reason.

You just remembered something—now you're cold

but no, I'm burning.

Burning from worry, from the inside out.

It’s thinking too much,

then thinking about thinking too much.

It’s pacing the room, fussing, scrolling endlessly on those feeds

because sitting still feels draining.

It’s wanting to scream, to cry,

but hissing out loud instead.

“Just breathe,” they say.

I inhale. Then exhale.

I do. I swear, I take deep breaths

But the air feels clamped—

each inhale soggy, heavy.

I never signed up for this mental stress.

I smile but do I have to? 

I laugh, but the mood fades quickly 

They don’t see it—

the war behind my eyes, in my head 

The worry. But it’s there.

It’s always there.

And some days,

just getting out of bed

feels like an extreme sport.

With The Full weight of Adulthood pressing down,

Sleep comes to the rescue sometimes 

The pause button 

when I try not to overthink.

So no—

this is no poetry.

It’s anxiety.

It’s not being dramatic.

It’s not weakness.

It’s surviving each day in a chaotic mind,

getting over problems I can’t even name

without them echoing back louder.

©DeeOn