Whispers surround me, soft and low,
Anxiety rising, beginning to grow.
A current of fear, a wave of dread—
Racing thoughts crowd my head.
In shadows they linger, weaving their tale,
Stirring my heart, leaving me frail.
A tempest of worry storms in my chest;
In quiet I struggle, longing for rest.
As whispers encircle, I reach for the light
To calm this distress, to soften the night.
Hope is my anchor, my slow‑growing peace—
A breath that steadies, a gentle release.
I really relate to your words 💜💜
Thank you