Panic is rising.
I feel it in my soul.
Thundering through my chest
Racing through my brain.
Hammering in my stomach.
I twitch,
I squirm.
I want to retch,
to run.
And yet I'm stuck,
in discomfort.
plodding through quicksand.
sinking lower, never moving
I don't know
how much longer can my soul stay afloat.
Do I want to stay afloat.
The crashing waves are strong, and wouldn't it be great,
just to let them topple.
to push and pound
and let them win.
But what would that do?
What would be accomplished.
Nothing I suppose,
and maybe that's the point.
Or maybe the point is to recognize defeat, and move on
To a new place
a new terrain
Where the waves don't exist.
But then there will be wind.
Buffeting
Smashing
burning.
Does it begin again
Is that what life is
A constant stream of pain and frustration
anger and revolt
Or is it something more.
something unseen
the little beauties in life
the invisible kisses of a spring flower
but how is it found?
how can one find peace the storm?
i'm so confused.
distraught.
downtrodden.
it is too trite.
what's the point?
there has to be one.
there has to be a reason,
but what is it?
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