PANIC! Attack

Maybe it’s the coffee,

Maybe I’m nervous,

Maybe I’m faking it,

Maybe I’m overthinking it,

Maybe my heartrate lies,

Maybe my heartache cries,

Maybe my heart’s shrunk in size

Compared to before,

Maybe I’m just weak.

​

Or maybe,

Just maybe,

I now know what I feel.

I never knew before,

But now I can put my finger on it.

I can feel it, poke it,

Uncomfortably sticky,

Disconcertingly rough.

Unsettlingly cold,

Shockingly hard.

​

In all its pungency,

In its sickly sweet stench,

At least I know what it is.

At least I know how I feel;

A fork against a plate,

Claws against a chalkboard.

At least I know that

As defeated as I feel now,

While I couldn’t see it before,

I can now reach its throat.

​

Just barely.

With the tip of my finger.

But every time it attacks

It gets complacent.

A shadowy soldier

Puts down its shield

To swing its metaphorical scabbard.

And every time it attacks

I inch my way closer.

​

And soon I’ll grab it.

Stab forks in its ceramic eyes,

Claw at its blackened throat,

​

And maybe,

Just maybe,

Next time I’ll be ready.

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