I remember letting loose and taking,

Things slowly and in a safe place,

In the things that move my world,

I know that anxiety and rest are on opposite sides,

This makes it real and true,

I look and see how I've succumbed,

I need to keep moving,

With this nonsense and mud that's around me,

In all I think I can do,

I don't want to go on further,

This day I stand up,

So tired of this unending grind,

My stomach is rumbling,

My sleep has been erratic,

I'm running out of starter lines,

To make these poems of value to me,

Checked patterns that disguise the truth,

This pain that I brought on myself,