PoeticBiscuit

Panic Attack

I’m drowning yet I stand on solid ground staring out upon the sea,

The salted sea air breezes through my hair yet I struggle to breathe.

 

I look as if I’m admiring the great beauty before me,

Inside I’m fighting for my life, a very different story.

 

Don’t let them see,

You’re a burden,

They’ll call you weak,

If they see you hurting.

 

The voices whisper into my ear.

The cold calloused grip of death grows near.