Tammy Darby

It is Panic that has you in its Grasp

The cutis anserina raise cold upon your arm
The brain dispatches a foretelling chilling alarm
It is panic that has you in its grasp
I daresay your destiny
Though somewhat delayed come at last

You focus your frightened gaze rapidly from left to right
Wishing the sun break the dawn and begone this haunted night
Your inner voice speaks to you
Turn round if you dare
The hair slowly rises on your neck
The cautious self tells you to beware

Ring covered icy fingers run up your spine
Struggling to remain conscious
Your heart is pounding
Counting breaths, you mark the time

Drenched in sweat you stumble headlong into the dark
Unaware an actor on the stage
You are merely playing a part
Flee as far as you wish and swiftly as you can
There is no eluding the touch of fears hand

It is panic that has you in its grasp
The arms of fate
Clutch you to her stone breast and hold you fast
It calls your name
You must bow to the gods
And breathe your last

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Nov. 25, 2017.
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