Anxiety is a bellyache of uncertainty.
I cannot teach anxiety to count to ten.
Anxiety swallows my plans.
I cannot tempt anxiety with cheesecake.
Anxiety is a snarling dog in a kill shelter.
I cannot pour anxiety into a glass of reality.
Anxiety is a creaking door to my last tomorrow.
I cannot sweep anxiety under the rug.
Anxiety lost her library card on the bus.
I cannot sit anxiety in a time-out corner.
Anxiety hid the sleeping pills.
I cannot lock anxiety in her room.
Anxiety stays up too late and leaves crumbs on the couch.
I can only hug anxiety until she leaves home.
inspired by "Lines Written During My Second Pandemic" by Eduardo C. Corral
published in Sonnets to Sing
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