Panic!

A dainty chiming of doorbells

announce his presence,

a damning dissonance hammered

upon the drums of my ear.

The chambers and valves

of a spectacular crimson menagerie

are on a warpath;

Every heartbeat is a battle cry.

Soldiers marching

towards the unknown enemy

strike a foreboding cadence into the earth,

a rhythm like the pounding in my head.

These traitorous lungs of mine

threaten me with shallow breaths,

and cowardice oxygen

flees to safety outside this mass grave.

The greys of my irises,

lost in the explosions of my pupils,

are the unforgivable casualties

of a faceless attacker.

The ghost of a gun,

the phantom of his bayonet,

kisses the ashen skin of my temple.

Tired knees bend before him.

Teeth grind in anticipation of the end,

my ill-fated finale,

when the gun clatters to the cold floor,

and the blade falls beside my feet.

The enemy retreats

bathed in the warmth of my blood.

He bares a haunting grin,

a promise of his return.

There is not a trace

of him left behind

but for my invisible scars

and a single, identifying name.

He is Panic.

Author's Note

I was recently diagnosed with Panic Disorder and, as a result anxiety and depression. A lot of people who have never experienced a panic attack, or frequent ones, have a hard time understanding why they are so terrifying and so debilitating. It's hard for me to explain what they feel like, so this is my attempt at it in poem form.

Reviews

[V]

And a great attempt it is. The expressions, the metaphors are strong and well-written. Interesting point of view, creating suspense and storylike images.

[devon]

Thank you for this kind review! I'm glad I could do my experiences some justice.

[V]

You're welcome.