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Claws: a poem about the struggles of panic disorder and depression
4 years ago · 0 · Panic attacks, +3
922
I know it's here for me
It always comes
Its claws shear through my gut
I want to hide
But then they'd see the beast
That hunts me all my life
They'd never see the strength
The endless fight
The struggle for my wings
They'd only see the weakness
How I cry
As I give in to death
As I become undead
Living in terror
It kills me again
Again. Again. Again.
Why me?
Why does my terror draw it near?
Why is it dull
The weapon others use
To wound the enemy?
Will I come back
If death comes by another way
Another hand?
O death
That sweet escape
That secret path where monsters can not tread
But what if hope is false
What if
That path will give the monster wings?
No, my hand will not be the tool
The weapon
That brings my demise
I'll fight
No matter what they see
No matter what they think of me
And one day
I will triumph o'er my enemy
And live in peace
I'll soar above my fear
My perfect wings will carry me
Healed
Free
I know it's true
Yet my emotions tell me
It can not be so
Hope lends me no relief
No armor
Long sharp claws keep stabbing me
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