My heart is pounding,
My breathing is heavy
And this time it's not asthma.
Im sure I'm dying.
I can't help but fiddle,
And wiggle my leg.
Im taking my ring off
And on and off again.
In my head, a loop of
Hamilton, Cavetown
And Bo Burnham songs.
Just to keep it busy,
Just to not let it slide,
Just to not let it think.
This is my anxiety,
Not your problem and not your point to tell me to stop.
Because of I could I would.
(12.09.2021)
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poetry
PoetryI write sad poems. I wanted to share them. I'm not a native speaker. I also write sad poems in German.
