It's a little spiky ball
bouncing around inside my gut
It feels like I'm bleeding
but I can't see the blood
I can almost feel my blood pressure rising
My thoughts are racing
and my ribs feel too small
to contain my lungs
I want to climb out of my skin
I would sell my soul
if I believed in such things
for the chance to live a different life
free from the rising tide of anxiety
YOU ARE READING
furthermore
PoetryA poetic diary of sorts. A collection of poems chronicling my depression, suicidal ideation, and my journey through therapy.
