panic

I could always find words

To fill the silence

And cover the sound

Of a ticking clock.

It was easy, for me,

To say what was right,

The needed words

That you wanted to hear.

Faking smiles was a breeze,

A curl of muscle and lip

And I laughed like you were

The funniest alive.

My body is an instrument

To warp and control and

Never did I struggle to

Play the part.

But now that is a lie,

And I cannot control the sense

Of dread and the constriction of

Lungs that refuse to breath.

It is the smallest things, sometimes

That make and break my body

Untethering mind from muscle,

Making me weak, feeble.

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