The Anxiety of Denial

My conception of how
the world around me turns with least effort
is yielding into chaos
I get tired soon even though
I should be able to strive
with even greater strength
to stop the circles fallen on water
from reaching the edges
bent into tidal waves

I'll rather die
than let myself carry on like this
And still it's ungodly hard to just sit
act as if I don't even want to
the anxiety of denial on dry lips

I don't recognize the mirros, I fall
even though I don't know where to rise
when it's time for it
if there is time
if there ever is
but one thing I know
I don't want to destroy anymore
when everything was already excellent

Why gaining one thing means losing something else?