Jean-Eugène Robert-Houdin Had Good Handwriting

Anxiety is a box

Confining me with no space to move, and even less space to breathe

Stabbing me with swords of doubts and distress.

Sorrow is a water tank

Dangling me upside down, arms chained behind my back

Struggling to decide if drowning is truly worse than escape.

Empathy is a saw

Ripping me in half through gut reactions,

Protestingly pleading since I may not be able to pull myself back together.

It must be sad to be a Magician