In crowded places, walls press close,
Breath grows shallow, fear imposing its dose.
Between two, I strain for air,
Feeling trapped, an invisible snare.
Pulling a shirt over my head,
Seconds tick by, each a lead weight of dread.
Panic rises, struggling to breathe,
In the grip of spaces, tight and seethe.
Others may not understand,
The weight of air, closing in like sand.
In silence, I wrestle and cope,
In a world that shrinks, my hope.
Yet, in the suffocating grip I strive,
Claiming my space, but the darkness thrives.
Beyond the choke of fear's embrace,
I gasp for air, still trapped in place.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
