The man with the black top hat, anxiety man.
He came to my door, and shook my hand.
Said, fear is near, you must shed a tear.
You think this is bad, oh just wait a year.
I let him in, poured him tea.
He complimented me on my misery.
Said, “Darling, you’ll never be free.”
How he arrived, is a mystery.
I told him it was time to go.
The man with the hat said, no.
I need to sleep, I need some rest.
He wont go until my anxiety, is at its best.
Who are you? Do you exist?
“Only where loved ones are missed.”
He walked away an blew a kiss.
He cackled at my clenched fist.
I went to sleep with quite a delight.
Anxiety man was out of sight.
When I wake up, he’ll arrive again.
Just to lie and, say he is my friend.
I believe him and, I let him stay.
Because anxiety never goes away.
If anxiety were a person