A Difficult Choice of Words
My anxiety is like a crow. Every where you go, it's sure to follow. Its dark feather so sleek and glossy, reflects back the fears that cloud my eyes. As I walk, I see it at the corner of my eye watching me. The moment it sees something wrong, it will go off. The ringing of its cries deafen me, sending me into a state of paralysis. Not able to move, to think, to speak. Its cries bound me to the ground, letting me hold myself together while rocking back and forth to escape its awful alarm. It blinds me as the cloud of fear thickens and strips me of my sight, unable to see the way. Its call deafens me leaving me unable to think, so I am left defenseless against the menacing crow.