Persistence is her name (a poem)

An elephant 

sits 

upon my chest.

She is a beast 

of my own design.

She feeds on the fruit

that falls from the branches 

of anxiety

rooted deeply

in an overactive imagination.

She is not actually there,

but her weight

and her presence 

are unbearably real.

She limits  

movement 

and 

ability to

breathe.

Her name

is well known.

It is 

Worry,

or perhaps,

Regret.

- bshivers