Written by Juliana Hill

Anxiety consumes, relentless, unkind,
A whirlwind of shadows that race through my mind.
A racetrack of chaos, each thought a sharp turn,
Where flames of negativity endlessly burn.

Who she was—fragile and lost in her youth,
Who she is now—scarred but seeking the truth.
What she did—her sins etched deep in her skin,
Who she loved, who she failed, the battles within.

Who she hurt—herself most of all,
Who she wasn’t enough for, the ones who let her fall.
Who they believe her to be, through a fractured lens,
A story miswritten, a truth that bends.

She stands before the mirror, its surface like glass,
Seeing only her fragments, her bruised-over past.
Broken, used, and so deeply abused,
A mosaic of pain she never would choose.

Yet behind the cracks, there’s a glimmer, a start,
A whisper of strength at the core of her heart.
She wonders aloud if someone will see,
The raw, unmasked soul of who she could be.

Not the girl who stumbled, nor the one who fell,
But the phoenix that rises from her private hell.
For behind the mask, there’s a fire untamed,
And a heart still beating, unashamed.

So let them see through, if they ever dare,
Past the scars and the stories, the burden she bears.
Let them find her essence, her unyielding fight,
A woman reborn in her own quiet light.