Walking With Anxiety

Around the corner, I expect to find you,

when just coming to a stop outside,

I know you’ll be waiting,

when they make eye contact,

what is it this time they’ll decide is

about you.

When I reflect upon how often I have worried

alone

seems the hours of the day really do stretch themselves

an inordinate number of miscues,

that endless supply of

inconvenient truths.

Walk with me and tell me stories,

all the different places, unique moments,

phenomenal realities,

all beyond the scope of my wildest dreams,

nightmares.

I stole away this after meeting my midnight serenade

only to discover the result is always the same,

I cannot get out of my head,

without seeing the shadows,

the fear that exists waiting, wondering, wallowing

in a sea of self-pity.

Walk with me, anxiety,

it is truly a beautiful day,

the sort we could lose away,

in a fit of self-serving worry,

concern,

confidence,

callous

contemplations that always seem to shout out loud,

when we wish only to quiet the storm.

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