by Jules Roberts

Created on: November 03, 2008

Panic.

The sun has arisen

I twist in my bed

I've nothing to fear

But these shapes in my head.

My body feels ugly

Like a slug in the day

I bury me deeper

Under my warm duvet.

Then I know it is useless

And admit to defeat

I rise up and stretch

Then I stand on my feet.

Now I am up what do I do?

The pits of my stomach will leap

I pace round in circles constantly

Or curl up on the floor and sleep.

So strongly I feel the presence of fear

This solid compact ball of dread

The person I am is lost to me now

As anxiety hi-jacks my head.

Why did this monster choose to plague me?

I feel like I do nothing right

My days filled with doubt and dread all the time

My eyes cannot close when its night.

An empty shell of a person I am

Seeking a life more fulfilled

Anxiety put a gun to my head

And slowly my spirit is killed.

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