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.