Itching When I'm Anxious

We talked about my future, and my skin began to itch,

Because I have no ideas for it that I want to pitch.

My mom says be a surgeon, my dad says just get rich,

So we talked about my future, and my skin began to itch.

I sat on my bed itching, trying not to cry.

My brother asked what’s wrong, so I knew I had to lie.

I said, “Oh, it’s nothing!!” He shrugged and said goodbye,

Leaving me alone to itch and just try not to cry.

We talked about my feelings, I started to itch my arm,

Because all this weight I was carrying began to bring me harm.

I told her, “I’m okay, love.” She smiled and said I had charm,

Then she left me all along in there, so I had to itch my arm.

The skin peeled off, I scratched and picked too terribly,

I cried and sobbed while my newly naked arms began to slowly bleed.

The skin was in my fingernails, a bandage my arm needs,

I got up to go and get one while the blood came up in crimson beads.

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