Brennan Gunster Poet I do not know?

The Battle

All I can hear is my breath,
Feeling the touch of death.
I ran as fast as I could,
My head was covered by a hood.
I burst into the nurse’s room,
Now feeling as if I’m in a tomb. 
“Are you ok?”
I leaned against the doorway,
so I muttered something she couldn’t hear,
“you will have to speak up dear.”
“I think I’m having a panic attack.”
Suddenly all I can see is black,
I fall to the ground
I know I hit the floor but I heard no sound.
My hands clenched shut,
Unable to get them unstuck.
Not wanting to retreat,
I dig in my feet.
I sit and wait,
And call this battle a stalemate.

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Casarah Nance April 8, 2016 at 3:26 PM I know that feeling, well described.

Sonia Walker April 8, 2016 at 12:12 PM Brennan, there seems to be different battles going on within our minds. Your description of a panic attack is realistic. Each is unique as created paintings. Thank you for sharing your insightful writing. ~ Sonia

Ovidiu Bocsa April 8, 2016 at 9:45 AM Brave and touching rhymes: breath and death; could and hood; hear and dear; ground and sound etc. Amassing feelings and means by communication with.I imagine the rhythm and verse like a walk with a pony in a park of flying colored leaves towards the leafage`s melancholy.