Hot magma pulses through my veins
and I hear blood surge in my ears.
Silent sirens sound to my sympathetic
nervous system,
my flight or fight freezes up.
I become a smiling statue:
Ready to handle the issue
without you ever having to know
how it rips through me,
a secret bullet wound.
YOU ARE READING
Love, Depression, and the Overlap
PoetryPoetry inspired during the roughest couple of years.
