Panic. It's good for defense.
Panic. It only makes sense.
Silence. Nobody listens.
Silence? No. I'm screaming.
In my personal prison cell.
In my exceptional existential hell.
Hiding behind a happy face.
Clawing at the walls.
My monster wants to escape...
And so she whispers…
And now she sings…
And now she cries.
I cry.
I laugh.
I scream.
Do these thoughts mean anything?
Am I cursed?
Where is the witch, that has tortured me with this Panic?
Turning, spinning, spiraling.
Falling, falling, falling…
Sanity fleeting.
Panic. It's good for defense.
Panic. It is the only thing that makes sense.
About the Creator
Alicia Abbott
Other than my husband, poetry and short stories are what get me through the day. Writing is my release.
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The Longest Minute
A minute. Sixty seconds to say goodbye. That’s all the time that I had left with him as the needle slid into his leg. I stared into his drooping eyes, looked at the blood-tainted saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. They said that this was the best thing that we could do for him, a last kind act for a best friend…but if that were the case, then why did my heart feel so heavy?
By Stephanie Hoogstad5 days ago in Fiction
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