I get a knot,

In the pit of my stomach,

When I become afraid,

Of the real,

Or imagined,

Even when the

Real angst

Is meaningless.

Those senses,

Imaginings,

So close,

And not

So far

Apart,

From each other,

Dictate how I feel,

And act.

That’s what makes

It so

Frightening.

Thanks Beaconblog for pic.

Categories: Blog, Creative writing, Poem, Poetry

Tags: anxiety, Chains, Fear, Imagination, Stomach