With Agony Comes Growth

The pain that comes with agony.

Two nouns together, those battle me.

Crashing waves of pressure slaves.

Choking throats with anxiety that coats;

The whole body alone in the lobby.

A floating ghost who doesn’t feel like most.

From coast to coast who controls this host.

I look down and see no legs

Floating above the ground, I quickly beg.

Dead is something I cannot be

Just lost in my mind, uncomfortably.

I feel I’m sick in my mental

Or just your average transcendental.

A little skeptical at times and on edge

But I grow tall enough to cross the hedge.

I do not beg for a life that isn’t mine.

I confine myself with little, or no help.

Trapped just for a bit, to find if one is truly sick.

I feel like I will grow compared to gnome.

I put myself out, out of my home.

The walls of confinement will soon drop,

And all anxiety will soon stop.

Growth is the thing I want most

So I turn to my host and say:

I am in control.

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