A J.E. Skye Poem – An Anxiety Poem

This poem is the latest version of A Little White Pill that I updated in my poetry class a couple of months back. I wanted to share this newest version with you today. I think this one is going into my memoir, but I haven’t fully decided. When I start my Master’s in October, one of my focuses will be on poetry writing since I enjoyed writing so much. Please share your thoughts on my poem!

Always keep Fighting!


A Little White Pill

A little white pill,

it means the world.

When you fail to take it,

it attacks your will to live,

makes you feel things no human should.

Reminders of a constant feeling—

hopelessness. Panic. Fear. Uneasiness.

It begins.

I can’t breathe or focus.

My mind races— dark thoughts dot my mind.

‘I am going insane.’

‘I am losing control.’

‘What will people think?’

Oh, so many thoughts.

Worst case scenarios playing out in my mind.

—People. Gathering around me as I sit on the floor,

panic consuming. People pointing. “What is wrong with this man?

He needs help! Someone call 9-1-1.—”

Will I survive? I have to stay home,

it is safe here.

Panic, as if death were right outside the window,

Pushing glass and— it is only a matter of time

before the glass shatters.

I can’t go out, I have to stay.

My panic chases me like the bee I am allergic to.

It’s safe here. “Stay, just stay.”

There is a whole world out there—

no please stay.

My mind is winning.

I can’t do this.

“How can someone live like this?”

Spinning out of control,

my chest tightens like a wet towel tightened

but all the water dissipates with each breathe.

—I can’t breathe.

Why is this happening?

I must sit. No, I can’t sit. You must.

A tingling sensation consumes my hands.

First at the tips and before long,

it is engulfing my hands.

“Stay calm,” they say.

I feel so cold, “Why am I sweating?”

What is this?

Numbness takes over as if I am nothing.

I get lost in it, I do everything I can.

Nothing helps—

wait, what about that little white pill.

A new dosage. More powerful than before.

I take that white pill.

Time—it moves slowly.

Yes. I can feel it now. It’s over.

It’s finally over.

I should have done mindfulness breathing.

Who knew a little white pill, was the answer?

I wonder. Was it the cause or the cure?

Like the doctor said, take as prescribed.

J.E. Skye

Photo Credit: rawpixel


52 Replies to “A J.E. Skye Poem – An Anxiety Poem”

  1. I relate to this a lot it’s like reading how I feel when I get into a state of depression, when I forget to take my medicine.. I specifically like the last line where you said I wonder if it’s the cause or the cure, because I am constantly thinking the same way, would I still be like this or is it just this is the way I am and I never realized

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I totally relate to this post. I suffer from Complex PTSD, Depression and Panic disorder. If i miss my doses i totally lose control of my mind and body. I love your work, its amazing and breathtaking.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I relate to this completely, and it’s beautifully said. Panic attacks have plagued me for years, and I used to have PRN’s for it, but since ditched them because I was worried about becoming dependent on them. I’ve learned to manage the attacks other ways but still have a fear of them coming back the way they did years ago. Anyway, beautiful poem. I remember a while ago I wrote a similar one in relation to the antipsychotics I’ve been taking. Who knew something as small as a pill could cause so much conflict within a person? Ha!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I know what you mean. I am at the point where I believe I have become too dependent on my anti-anxiety pills and my antipsychotics. But I don’t know if I can get off of them because I have been dependent for so long. Doctors don’t care about those type of things at least in my experience

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I agree. They also don’t go into much discussion about it before they hand out the medication, which I think would be a wise decision, give people something to think about too.

        Liked by 2 people

  4. Oh yes, that ugly pain in the chest called anxiety. This is a very accurate description. I’ve recently realized fear and anxiety appear the same sometimes, but, anxiety is often what leads to irrational thinking.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Great poem James, I think you should add it to your book. I don’t take meds for my anxiety thow it would be nice at times to get rid of that dame chest pain when it flares up. ❤️✌️


    Liked by 1 person

  6. I’ve always thought myself lucky to live in an age when there are medications for these disorders. Former therapies including burning at the stake, you know.

    By the way, did you intend to subtly reference the terrorist attacks by spelling the 911 number 9-11? If so, that was interesting.

    Good poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Wow so powerful, the bit towards the end really got me…. Is it the cause or the cure… Well done for putting your stuff out there as well that takes courage and it’s real, raw and beautiful, I believe you can and will conquer your anxiety attacks 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Your poem brought tears to my eyes. Never stop writing. You have a gift of putting into text feelings that sometimes one cannot describe. Always share this gift.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. That is an amazing description of what many of us truly understand. It is very strong of you to come up with this piece of writing with such openness. I appreciate! Cheers!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome. It is always a pleasure to read fellow bloggers posts. I have also recently written a poem at my site. You’re welcome to pay a visit and leave your valuable feedback.

        Liked by 2 people

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