poetry, poem about mental illness, poem about anxiety, mental health blogger, this stuff is golden,

Panic

My organs feel like
They do not belong to me
They are rapidly working
To keep somebody else alive
The person before
Who was she again?

My insides are trying so hard
That they will burst through my skin
Provide some relief
Give them some room
A pulse that is throbbing
Like a noisy neighbour
Quieten down, quieten down
Now is not the time for panic.

Keep it together
Wrap myself up
Layer on layer
Fabrics for comfort, for hiding away
Hell has got to stay warm
Let the ideations simmer
Put them on the back burner
Now is not the time for panic.

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