Hoping that writing would hold me

My swollen heart is aching again,

it loves too easily, it sinks all too often

Sometimes life feels like a minefield

of anxieties and I think I stepped on one day.

I am always waiting for my life to start 

Today it felt like its a long time coming

And anxiety, my old friend, came back again

to sit beside me, shaking me out of

the lull of everyday life. 

Old fears came to haunt me again,

what if life is but endless hours

of dreadful mediocre conversations,

and fullfillment of duties,

mechanical loving and working?
Whatever happened to great passion?

And am I truly living life on my own terms?

Weaknesses stepped out,

looking to hold me hostage,

So here I am,

asking for small miracles,

Hoping that writing would hold me

so that I won't break into

tiny little pieces I can't glue back.

So here I am,

hoping for the strength to return

and keep me company

while I wait for the despair to subside.