Times while sat with eyes blinded by night,
With anxiety holding my heart,
And my eyes locked towards the ceiling in fright. 
     The cold now stealing my heat,
And the bed now crushing my ear.
I have no idea where to start. 
     My heart is gripped with fear,
While I lay, hand raised to the ceiling.
A weakness, a random tear. 
     I am unwilling,
To move or seek repose,
Or wish for healing. 
     My problems cannot be disclosed.
I seek only closure.
My solutions left not proposed. 
     What my problems are I’m unsure.
All I say to myself is “I’m fine, I suppose.”
What I’m anxious of is left obscure.

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