Anxiety’s heart always beats fast
And feel like each beat is their last
Their skin is covered in a sheen of sweat
They bite their lip and always fret

Anxiety’s fingers always shake
And has queasy stomach ache
Their teeth are ground into smooth pebbles
They give small squeaks and start to tremble

Anxiety’s hair is streaked with grey
And they never go outside to play
Their skin is pale from lack of sun
They curl up in a corner and talk to no one

Anxiety’s brain is a messy thing
And walks as though tied down by strings
Crescent moon scars litter their hands
They want to scream, but don’t know if they can.