Sudden Attack

The heart stops,
stomach drops,
and fear attacks
tearing and scraping the insides.
Stepping back, it’s not the right time.
It’s too delicate; my hands are tied.

I stall. I ruminate. I do all the things not to destroy this.
I dread that I will, gravely… to the point of not moving.
This is what it’s like when people become a ghost.
It’s too much to go forward.
So, I turn
in the opposite direction.

anxietymental healthmental illness

◄ The Arrival

unease ►

Comments

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kimberly

Sun 27th Sep 2020 03:29

Thank you 🙏🏻

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Paul Sayer

Sat 26th Sep 2020 17:22

It’s too much to go forward.
So, I turn
in the opposite direction.

What an ending Kimberley to an insightful poem on mental illness.

Well captured.

Paul

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