Most Days.
When The Foe Returns.
Sometimes anxiety and depression come back. They arrive, and slap you up the face, reminding you that, in times of weakness, physical tiredness or emotional fatigue, they will sneak up, and slither into your mind, infecting all self worth. I keep reminding myself to ‘ride it out’, because it will pass. It may take some time, but it will pass.
Most days my mind is clear
And I can work, walk, chat, smile, manage.
Most days my heart is light
And I can plan, move, clean, write and paint.
Most days I don’t care
About what he, she, they think or say.
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But sometimes
A weight of fatigue, of numbing
Empty, apathetic nothingness
Presses, like a heavy body.
Energy, and creativity,
Confidence and worth
Are suffocated and muted
Under the selfish imposter.
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Most days, I am light
And I walk with purpose, smile with feeling.
Most days I am me, and I matter.
Most days.
Some days I am tired
And my foe, he knows it.
Some days I lose,
But most days
I win.