Fear
My continuous, unpleasant sense of worry
Makes my heart begin to hurry,
Makes my vision become so blurry,
And my anxiety is present.
I wish I could just scurry.
The unpleasant feeling that I feel
Makes me question what is real,
Makes my skin begin to peel,
And my dread is torment.
I let out a tiny squeal.
My amygdala sensing a threat
Makes my body begin to sweat,
Makes my breath heavily jet.
And my fear is frequent.
I wonder if I'm dead yet.
Copyright © Kaitlyn Krenik | Year Posted 2016
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