The Big Book of Poems

Panic Attack

I love the poems when I don't write like me , there are no neat stanzas because I've decided that my life isn't split into stanzas , the subject is dear to me , and if you read this fast enough , perhaps you'll understand how they feel.

You're hurting me and ripping my skin apart , stretched tight across bones that happen to be dotted with pale streams. Streams where the tears have corroded my body with the constant lapping of emotion. The jokes are from my death mask as I pull the face I'll keep til I'm gone. I'll simply have to deal with your torment today , I'll have to tell my lungs to try to breathe normally as I lapse again to the attack. As my brain freezes and my chest shrinks and I guess if the people here to protect me don't care I'll take it into my own hands.As I took the knives and the blades and my blood , I'll welcome it all because its better than you.I'll learn to live in darkness because only with light is there shadows. I'll learn to fight it myself because I'm done with the questions that you really shouldn't be asking. The walls put up for my protection are simply locking me in - so I'll burst. I'll break it all. I'll decide that today my attack will be my strength , and not my weakness.