Wordy Poetry

Anxiety

Not this again.

The loss of breath.

That dreadful emptiness inside your stomach.

And the horrifying, unexpected feeling of death.

They say "it's okay."

"It's not your fault" or "your not alone."

But what do they know.

Because there's much more that you make sure isn't shown.

"You just want attention."

"Your overreacting, everyone get's stressed."

"You are just so selfish."

They don't understand how you can suddenly feel your worst at your best.

But it doesn't matter.

Except it's that exact thing.

The thing that causes the attacks.

What people might say is what so easily causes my mood to swing.

That sudden panic.

I can't control it no matter how hard I try.

Then comes along the people who pretend to care.

I could be literally dying, but I would still reply with I'm fine. My favorite lie.