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Poetry

Poetry: Panic

THE ATTACK

My skin is clammy, hot and cold;
My pulse begins to quicken.
Unrest has got a stranglehold;
I'm simply panic-stricken.

With thumping pressure in my chest,
My vision's turning blurry.
Is it a cardiac arrest,
Or just a case of worry?

A fevered cramp contains my brain,
As chills convulse my form.
I simply cannot bear the pain;
I long to be lukewarm.

Pick up the phone! call 9-1-1!
My body starts to thrash.
The storm subsides, a hit-and-run,
A flying wild hot flash.

Learn more about this author, Linda Ann Nickerson.
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