Anxiety (Prompt 3)

My anxiety

Isn't some ugly green demon,

But a beautifully vicious woman,

Dressed in red silk.

It doesn't scream in my head,

But seductively whispers in my ear,

Drawing me to itself.

My anxiety

Sits on my shoulder

And touches me softly

Ever so subtly reminding me 

That I am not enough.

It pulls me away slowly

From all the people I love

And lures me into her trap

All the thoughts, the never-ending spiral.

It plays the harp of my brain,

Drifting me into a lullaby

Only known by her.

My anxiety kisses me slowly,

Then takes control all at once,

It smirks at me as I fall deep,

Into its prison of play, all night.