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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2227722
A poem about the delibilating nature of anxiety and depression

Something is Wrong, I Know

When you were 6,

you planned a Mother's Day party,

for us, your friends and their moms.

Your organizational skills rivaled Martha Stewart.

That same year,

you took your sister's camera and threw it in the toilet.

Anger rushed out of you like water falling over a cliff.

Something is wrong, I know.

When you were 9,

you threw bowls on a pottery wheel,

your tiny hands spinning mud into dishes.

But at home,

you couldn't tolerate me saying no.

You ran to the playground half a mile away by yourself,

emotions as wild as that swing across the monkeybars.

Thankfully, you came back.

Something is wrong, I know

At 17, I dropped you off in Maine.

You walked the entirety of the Appalachian trail,

An amazing feat for sure.

But, in highschool, you cried,

and hid under the teacher's desk.

You hated everything and everyone.

Something is wrong, I know.

Your artwork is museum worthy,

Your writing, publishable,

Your organizational skills superb,

Your tenacity admirable.

Something is wrong, I know,

Anxiety interrupts your strength,

turning passion to fury.

Depression impedes your goals,

Surrendering you to the couch,

while the world,

awaits your greatness.

Anxiety is wrong, I know.

Depression is wrong, I know.

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