The Grip of Anxiety

Anxiety

It coils like a noose, tightening with every breath,

Squeezing, suffocating, pulling me away.

Voices blur, laughter fades—

I am here, but not really.

It steals my time, my joy, my warmth,

Wrapping its fingers around my throat,

A silent thief in the night,

Leaving only the echo of a pounding heart.

I reach, but no one is close enough.

Loneliness settles in my bones,

A hollow ache that never leaves,

A weight I can’t put down.

My skin crawls, my face burns—

A fire beneath my skin,

But I can’t escape.

Not yet.