Comfort
Normally, this action should bring joy.
No, it makes me panic.
Suffocating darkness, the room dissolves.
Suddenly, I'm in a different place.
Light purple halls, the room smells of cleaning supplies.
Lemon soap.
White coats, a needle pointed at me.
Blurred faces.
Arms wrapping around, forcing me to the floor.
Screaming.
Panicked tears streaming down my face.
Voices.
I'm being shaken,
Slowly I open my eyes.
The blurred, panicked face of my friend, asking if I'm okay.
No.
No, I'm not okay.
Run.
I turn and run, tripping over my feet.
As far away as I can get.
I shouldn't be this scared, it's only a hug.
I have a broken brain.
Deep, shuddering breaths.
Dust my jeans off, walk back to my friends.
I apologize, ignoring their concerned faces.
I can do this alone.
Aaaaand that's it. We have to write a poem about fear in creative writing and this is my poem. A fear of hugs. I know, I know. It's stupid. Ignore me.
YOU ARE READING
Book of Poems
PoetryThis is just going to be a collection of poems I've written. Don't really know if they're any good.....but I try. And I'm open to constructive criticism. Thanks for reading my poetry (if you chose to read this) -Arturia_Pendragon190 p.s most of them...
