Panic
My heart beat hastens,
like a herd of butterflies taking flight,
stampeding my stomach.
Unable to explain the need,
burning like a flame,
consuming all thought,
deep desire, a soul on fire.
The compulsion exists.
I can't resist.
Must continue, persevere.
A change of venue,
gotta run, escape,
evade this unknown beast.
Hanging on by a yarn,
imbedded fingers on a cliff,
below, a never ending abyss.
Copyright © Linda Smith | Year Posted 2005
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