My anxiety looks like the top step of a ladder.
No reassurance reinforcing.
And the intuition bubbling in the pit of my stomach,
If I fell I'd sure shatter.
My anxiety feels like standing at the railing of a boat.
The wind whispering fretful thoughts,
While goosebumps arise up my arms.
If i fall over I don't think I'd float.
My anxiety smells like a brewing storm.
Thrashing and howling,
Dark skies filling my body with gloom.
My damp clothes won't be able to keep me warm.
My anxiety sounds like a frat house party.
The voices soon get overwhelming,
Mixing together with no sign of dying down.
It's been hours, we aren't tired yet are we?
My anxiety tastes like a cotton ball.
The dryness in my mouth when I get nervous,
And knowing things will be fine is my water.
But I know these sensations will never become small.