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dear anxiety,
yesterday you tethered me with your palms,
and pulled the strings of my futile limbs
toyed me, like a marionette
my lifeless appendages bruised by you.
you manipulator.
you casted shadows with my body,
danced me away from what i knew
pampered my heart, kissed my aches
and assured me you knew what to do.
i stood and watched in the darkness
of my shadow as you osmosed inside,
infiltrated my mind and tweaked my limbs
with those pieces of string.
oh
how i wish to be cut free
of those tensions you built,
the days before where i daringly went
and fearlessly embarked,
free of constraints, free of you tugging from behind.
but you’ve fixated my limbs, constrained my veins
cut off my blood, and left me limp.
made me forget the me before you
and the feeling of control.
you manipulator.
cut the tension and cut me loose,
for i would rather succumb
to myself, than to painfully prevail
against your merciless fingers.
unapologetically,
your marionette.
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For most of my life, anxiety has dictated my actions and we have grown to be inseparable. What started as a queasy feeling in my stomach has become an elaborate part of my identity that controls who I am. I wanted to write this poem to scold anxiety. To reprimand it for what it has done to my life.