Nothing is safe

It's like you're heading at a wall at 90 mph but the brakes are broken.
It's like you're on the edge of the cliff and your footing isn't steady.
It's not being able to control what might happen.
It's this thing coursing through your body and crippling your mind.
It's butterflies turned into bombs, exploding at any time.
It's nerves into nightmares, taking your thoughts to dark places.
Nothing is safe.

That's what it feels like when it overcomes me.
Nothing is safe, not even my own body, not even my own mind.
And how am I supposed to trust myself when this could happen at any time?
How can I trust myself when I've said "It'll be okay" a million times?
Just to see how "okay" can turn out to be my head in a toilet
Or my reflection in the mirror with terrified eyes
Begging myself not to fly away
Telling myself to stay on the ground and fight

But it gets tiring fighting yourself
It takes a toll on your emotions
On your body and your relationships
So you swallow the pills they told you to take
And you meditate with your back against the wall
The therapist tells you to stand tall

So maybe ignore it, or maybe face it
But "it" should just get the hell out of my life
Because I'm sick of it's sly little smile
Telling me that it can take what's important
And exciting and turn it into fear

But hope is the only thing stronger than fear
And it's what I've held onto
And what I'll keep holding onto
Maybe molding that fear into something
I can put on my wall and not feel scared