My breathing is shallow

Curtailed by anxious imaginings.

All I can see,

From where I sit,

Are trees and flowers,

And I hear birds chirping,

Breaking the silence,

But not the angst

In my clenched fist.

Or the trepidation

Of unknown unforeseen tragedies

That I feel will come true.

Imagination can be

A passage to freedom,

Or a curse

Caged in barbed wire.

Categories: Blog, Creative writing, Poetry, uncategorised

Tags: anxiety, Fear, Worry