Another
Inside of me
Is yet another.
Not a friend
And not a brother.
Someone’s there
Who’s not quite me,
Thinking things
I wouldn’t think.
When we go walking,
And smell the dew,
Where trees are foggy,
I speak to you.
Where lips clammer,
Just jaws clumping trash;
My lungs in the slammer;
We must leave in a dash.
Stuck alone in the dark,
All I have is you;
Criticism so sharp,
It cuts me right through.
Inside of me,
Is yet another.
Not a friend,
And not a brother.
Someone’s there
Who’s not quite me.
They have a name;
Anxiety.