now I wake from this restless sleep
insides coiled tight, unable to breathe—
anticipation and expectation stealing
my peace. self-imposed standards shred
through my stomach lining: acid and bile
stifling my lungs. these days I bite
my tongue to keep from grinding my teeth
but it only leaves my jaw aching, ranting
anxious pleas across a screen while second?
guessing? does this sound? too much? like
self-loathing? or is that just me?
help me let this go; let me be gentle
with myself. how many times must I pray this
until I’m heard? and how long does it take
for God’s silence to give me comfort?
V. H. King's Ink 
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