Anxiety placed a gun
Against my head
And vowed,
“To forever be wed”
One shot should’ve led
To me being dead
But instead,
I finally fled
Once
I read
Our union
As bloodshed…
While in bed
I wrote this poem
Written
In ink red
It said,
“You and anxiety
Are no longer wed
You can retreat
From the thread
Of its defeat
And rise up
From being a peasant
That kissed its feet
For the journey of survival
Means you are no longer
Enduring defeat”
-Lavawroteit
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