Anxiety Disorder
Dreamy pens with time in race
Ready to fly and embrace the sky
Like eagles flying facing the sun
With straight unwavering wings.
I stay hither, holding my empty pen
My blank brain, my weighting fears,
My white atrembling wings.
Looking around with my pain’s blank eye
Nothing inside but that aery load.
I see my Rose faints and bows
close to her the Despair grows.
I stand to leave the room.
Despair opens his hands wide;
Yet I choose to squeeze my heart
Water my Rose which despair wounds
Hold her on my broken back
Like dwarfs once held their sky.
(C)So-Called-Poetry of Biba
So-called Poetry of Biba 