An Anxious Affair

Like the hands of a tireless clock,

This brain doesn't know when to stop.

Mornings; noons; evenings; nights;

The sun doesn't rest and neither do I.

You start at zero and get worked-up till five,

I live at seven, at nine am really alive.

It is a condition they tell me,

How my brain had been wired!

Genes; environment; suppressed memories;

Honestly, for this error alone, God should be fired.

Mediation; meditation; medication;

These just seem like the rest of my life.

In spite of everything worth living for, my brain tells me "die",

Half my days are spent fighting myself, it's a daily strife.

Don't you dare pity me, please save your sympathy,

Do not even try to be the "nice guy",

I'm neither sick, retarded, nor handicapped,

I am just an anxious bird that may never fly.

I cannot even remember the last time I was free,

Free of this grip that my mind has on me,

Not since I'm an adult, for sure;

Neither in college, nor school, nor before.

The only memory I can recall free of this spell,

Is that of a small boy, listening to stories his Dadi would tell!

~Saurav Goyal