The Weight of Anxiety A Man with Mental Illness

The Weight of Anxiety A Man with Mental Illness

I lost my job today because I couldn’t face work,

I needed to stay in my bed,

to get rid of the demons that play in my head.

Each day is a task to get up and rise,

so I’ve lost my job, and it’s no surprise.

So no, I can’t pay my rent,

because the money I had has all been spent,

so I’ll stay in my bed and close my eyes,

until the world fades away and the darkness complies.

Mornings stretch like an endless night,

the weight of the world feels heavy and tight.

A face in the mirror—a stranger’s gaze,

hollow and dark, lost in a haze.

Thoughts crash like waves, they pull and they tear,

running from shadows that linger everywhere.

Anxiety whispers, cold fingers on skin,

turning each moment into a battle I can’t win.

Every step feels like dragging through sand,

a heaviness clings like chains on my hands.

Conversations echo, yet silence shouts loud,

laughter of others feels foreign in the crowd.

Phobias lurk like wolves in the night,

slipping through cracks, feeding on fright.

Trapped in a cycle, this haunting refrain,

a dance with my demons, caught in the pain.

Nights bleed into mornings, seeking for sleep,

but the darkness wraps tighter, promises I keep.

Numbness becomes my closest friend,

no battles to fight, just a refuge in the end.

I don’t seek the light; I crave the still,

in this chaotic world, I’m losing my will.

Just fading away, shadows pull me tight,

lost in this struggle, shrouded in night.

When daybreak comes, I’ll stay in bed,

curled up in a ball, as the thoughts fill my head.

I can’t face the world, not today, not at all,

just silence and shadows, within these four walls.