The Heart

Anxiety,
Fills like a drink,
The glass of despair half empty,
And the bottle sits saturated with reluctance.

Palpations,
The stress beats in and out,
As the daze folds over one’s eyes.
And the echoing sound of loneliness flows.

Iambic,
Streams of reciprocating thought,
High, low, high, low.
Sharp, dull, sharp, dull,
And a juxtaposing void, filling an empty soul.