End of the line

Wrote this poem in 2010 . . . nothings changed.


And now i am reaching the end of the line
With a lump in my heart and a tear in my eye
And a head filled with millions of scattering flies
That'll buzz till brain bursts and ill escape from this life

Escape from the waking and facing the day
Alone in a crowd when at work and at play
Alone to extreme as i sit in my home
Emotionless, sad, just sat like a clone

Im getting too old to think ill be fine
In a year or two more when ive lived out some time
For times passing fast and things dont ever change
And i think to myself could i always be this way?

Will i always be too shy to talk to workmates
Always too hyped up to be normal on dates
Always too worried to relax and be me
Always living life just waiting to be free

Be free from the torturous anxiety
That sits in my chest and beats endlessly
Thats set up camp in my arms and legs
Jumping around till i sigh and i beg

Its got to a point where i dont know its there
Till it jumps a bit higher to remind me to be scared
To let me know that im not meant to smile
Not allowed to live life without anxiety inside

Inside me forever to keep me tied down
In this hell of a life where i see whats around
And almost feel able to reach out and touch
Till anxiety hits hard and my hopes turn to dust

I feel like im starting to lose the long fight
To give up the stress of facing this life
I feel as if maybe im soon to go mad
But maybe itd be better than just being sad

Sad and alone and filled with despair
Living to die without breathing in air
Locked in a bubble to keep myself in
Im programmed to think that to talk is a sin

To talk without thinking would mean so much to me
But i cant see it happening, i dont really believe
I cant even manage a quick little chat
So how in the world could i talk longer than that