Anxiety has a body,
A mind, a will, a purpose.
It's persistent. And it's patient.
It starts as but a worry,
But a thought within your brain,
A chiding, soft "What If?"
What if I should fail this test today?
What if I'm all alone in this world?
What if my life means nothing?
That's all it needs to find you,
All it needs to start observing,
Watching blindly from a distance.
Anxiety is unknown, without identity.
It neither needs nor wants one,
Preferring a suit and tie
So black, like what you dread,
Long arms to grab and bind you
And keep you in its clutches.
Its eyeless gaze will haunt you.
You won't see it, but you'll swear
On your life you're being watched,
Being scrutinized and followed.
You might not even get that; if so,
Then all the better for it.
It creeps closer as your worry turns
To panic, dark and relentless.
It's been waiting for this moment.
You will never see it coming,
You won't even hear its approach –
But you will hear its voice.
It whispers all your fears to you,
Your doubts and hated qualities.
Its words both soothe and frighten you.
The chills down your spine are its fingers,
Long and pale and slender
As it reaches out to take you
And keep you for its own.
And as it pulls you closer,
Closer into its cold embrace,
You will find you cannot fight it.
It's too powerful for you to fight,
Too strong to run away from now.
So very many arms it has,
Thin and snaking, tendril-like,
And black as midnight as they bind you,
Squeezing so tightly you cannot breathe,
Holding so fast you cannot struggle,
Sapping your energy, feeding your fear
Just as your fear slowly feeds it.
And when it's finally tired of you,
When it's had enough of this game,
Its blank canvas face opens up
Hinge-like, showing sharp and awful teeth,
And it consumes you whole.