My anxiety isn't black.
It is red.
A blaring alarm.
A flashing light.
A warning.
A constant, screaming warning.
WARNING!
Warning!
Warning...
If the alarm sounds
for so long
Maybe I can drown it out.
But my anxiety isn't soft.
It isn't dark.
It's flashing and panicked.
My anxiety isn't black.
My anxiety
Is red.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
PoetryMy thoughts tend to form like poems, so I figured I'd share them- part of me hoping they make sense to more than just myself.
