Anxiety Apron

Wiping my hands down the fabric

Then wringing it in twists and knots

Pulling on the strings from the bow

Hoping no one notices the spots

Because each one represents a time

Of failure on my part

To control the monsters in my mind

That comes out from the dark.

Sometimes I see their evil eyes

Or demons in my head

I cover up like a little child

Not wanting to rise from bed

The feeling of depression

I just can't seem to shake

I hold onto my apron tightly

Not wanting to ever wake.

Some people call them a crutch

Or an addiction of the mind

But I call them my apron,

The little swallowing kind.

Why won't my mind just rest

And let me be at ease?

Excuse me now can you find

My anxiety apron please?

Reviews

[Peter Truth]

"Why won't my mind just rest and let me be at ease". I love that line and find it applicable to my own life. Good write!