Anxiety feels like a spiral with no end,
A relentless tornado twisting within,
Pulling me deeper, where the light bends,
And shadows crowd, whispers thin.
In the storm, I seek out darkened screens,
Movies and shows where nightmares reign,
A strange comfort in these haunted scenes,
Where, at least, the chaos isn't my own pain.
In their turmoil, I find a strange peace,
A safety net woven from their despair,
A reminder that my life, though not at ease,
Is free from the monsters lurking there.
I try to tell my loved ones, voice trembling,
Of the whirlwind tearing at my mind,
But they dismiss it, blame the internet,
And the dark shows for leaving me confined.
"It's just the screens," they say, waving away,
"Too much darkness seeping into your soul,"
But they don't see the storm that stays,
Or how the blackness makes me feel whole.
They don't hear the wind that howls,
Or see the spiral's endless grip,
They don't know the comfort I find,
In stories where my fears can slip.
For in those shadows, I find a friend,
A reflection of my silent cries,
A world where the tornado might end,
And my soul can rest, unseen, under darkened skies.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
