In the pit of despair I lay, Begging for someone to say, "Everything will be okay, Trust me," she said, "You will be okay." But in the shadows, there she stood, The voice that whispered where it could, "This is the end, Trust me," she said, "Submit to anxiety and dismay, For everything will not be okay." The battle waged, deep within, A coin toss deciding lose or win, One voice with comforting embrace, The other drenched in bitter taste. The voice of reason, gentle and kind, Whispered softly, "Pay no mind, To the darkness that clouds your view, For I am here, and I'll guide you through." But anxiety roared, relentless and true, Her words like daggers, they pierced me through, A shroud of darkness I could not escape, The feeling of doom began to take shape. Back and forth, a tug of war, In the tempest of my soul they tore, The moment hung on that fateful flip, One side to sink, the other to grip. Suspended in time, the coin spun high, Its gleaming face caught my eye, An endless battle, the voices dance, Fear and reason in eternal trance. Oh, when will the chaos subside, The voice of reason, I long to confide, To let go of anxiety's dreadful reign, And embrace the hope that still remains. "Everything will be okay, Trust me," she said, "You will be okay." And so I cling to her soothing song, Praying that she's right and not wrong, As I drift into tomorrow's fray, Hoping for the day I'll truly say: "Everything will be okay."