I am what you might call an overthinker
I spend my nights awake, staring at the ceiling
Tracing thoughts on the walls, letting my fingers linger
Over the memories the pale purple paint is concealing
Till the world is faded to deepest black
And sleep overpowers my brain at long last
I am, according to the world, an bundle of nerves
My mornings are spent like a rich man’s loose change
Scattered, forgotten, slept on, never given what they deserve
Wasted away on a thoughtless exchange
Run through the washing machine till rusted away
And left behind for that lunch on display
I am, to my family, a nervous wreck
Who spends her afternoons like a man lost at sea
Tossed about by waves of doubt, nigh on washed off deck
Only saved by a loose rope and hot cup of tea
Fighting to breathe till the storm has passed
And evening has come and I am free at last
I am, you might say, an overthinker
Who will always be prepared for a long winter
Who’s world is never safe and sound
Unless she is six feet underground
Yes, I am indeed a bundle of nerves
Wondering each morning what the day serves
Longing to stay safe in my bed
And pull the sheets high above my head
So I cannot deny that I am a nervous wreck
Who craves nothing more than to be perfect
And get the grades of highest standing
Lest I fail to live up to their demanding
Yeah, you guessed right, I have anxiety
But at least when it comes to quiet me
I’ll also have you, my loving friend
To fight the monster and defend me to the end
For that I am grateful as grateful can be
And offer you now my favorite tea
I hope you like it, but worry you’d rather have dinner
Because I am, after all, an overthinker.