Anxiety

By Renée Vazquez A.

I can’t breath

when I feel you creep inside.

You make it hurt.

You make me shudder.

Inside, and out.

You make me cry,

first on the inside

and then you spill over.

You push my fears,

my worries,

pressing them into my heart–

you press them into my throat–

you make them fill my entire me–

you are them.

And you’ve consumed me.

And you make me guilty

for serving you;

as you slowly replace me,

time after time.

Editor: AJ Patencio