"It"

I’m feeling quite ill today.
What's left of me seems
to keep
peeling
away.
Layer after layer
every corner of my skin
flattens to a
thin
flake
floating amidst space
hanging
in
a moment
in
time.

I'm taking every precaution
to not step out of rhyme.
To not reveal to the others outside
that things don’t seem
quite right today.
I must be losing my mind.
My thoughts seem just a little bit off.
And my limbs won’t agree to be still.
I’m hanging in space
And everyone can see
Everyone keeps wondering
what’s happening to me.
And I tell them
“it’s anxiety”
and they all hem “I see”
“Have you seen those ads for pills on tv?”
And I stare at them
at that blank wall behind their eyes
Asking myself what I was
afraid of all this time.
What made them think
they could possibly see through me
What made me think they could
understand exactly what was going on with me.

But it’s not their fault
if the words don’t contain
if the words don’t carry
the message I send.

And I can’t blame them
if they can’t get inside,
if they can’t determine whether
their feelings are the right.

We all heard it better
before it was spoken.
Now that it’s broken
it can’t be fixed.
And we can’t remember
that mutual suspicion,
that slight suggestion we were all
feeling it.