Panic Attack

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 24, 2018

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Submitted: August 24, 2018

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Whence from my eyes, tears do flow
Upon my freckled cheeks
The day is gone, no sunny glow
reflects upon those peaks
Consumed and rent, the day is spent
I lie upon the floor
writhing and frozen and searing and bent
my insides torn and sore
My heart, it's wrong, and so's my mind
they run on tracks awry
full speed the gears squeal and grind
till they run right off and die
Now dead I lie upon the ground
vacuous unmoving lungs
no seeds to grow, none to be found
the great trap has been sprung
Then spark does spring deep in my soul
wrathful hatred gnaws
and burns right out like fiery coal
till breath once more I draw
Screaming, clawing, blind fury flies
it pecks and wails and moans
Then altogether it too, buys
its own solid granite headstone
and sits right there among the tombs
right in line and all
and striking lightning to my womb
down rabbit hole I fall
and plummet and sink until there's no
thing left of me in here
Oh who will help, where can I go
to rid me of this fear?


© Copyright 2018 M Scott Cain. All rights reserved.