Footsteps

I hear them.
I hear them behind me.
But anytime I look back,
There's nothing there to see.

I stop to listen to them,
Trying to hear who follows,
But when I stop walking,
I'm alone in the quiet tunnel shallows.

They're getting closer,
Louder with every stride.
And now I'm afraid they're threatening,
And telling me to hide.

I walk faster,
But I don't look back.
I can sense the danger
Concealed in the pitch of black.

The echoes, oh the echoes,
How they drive my ears insane.
They bang against my eardrums,
Like a mental hurricane.

The steps echo inside my head.
How it hurts, oh how it aches.
They beat my brain to death,
The way a stolen heartbeat makes.

The anxiety of someone grabbing me,
It eats my mind like a virus.
I can't stand this feeling of discomfort,
Wishing to turn the voices to silence.

They inch closer and closer,
Until I can't stand the suspense.
I sense them right behind me,
Their grasp on me hard and tense.

I scream out, "THEY'VE GOT ME!"
I try to put my arms up to fight,
But I can't; I'm restrained.
In fact, I'm in a soundproof room, small and bright.

Then, I remember that I'm not in danger.
Nobody can hurt me except myself.
For my mind is the footsteps.
As I drive myself to a seizure through my blinding white jacket.