You feel it ram into your back
And you know it’s in the room.
This crippling blow tenses your muscles
And it begins to feed
On your hair, your fingernails,
Your thoughts.
Its claws sink in,
Scarring the skin.
It howls
And your heart quickens.
You won’t sleep—
It haunts your dreams too.
As you lay there exposed,
The infections will come
For you to sweat out
Once more—
And this monster will leave the room
As quietly as it came in.
2 comments:
This is one hell of an accurate description of stress. I had the idea a while ago about writing something similar in regards to anxiety, but I think that this does a masterful job. I dig it. and the last line is so true. Stress isn't somethign that is released ya know, it just kind of leaves. Nothing spectacular.
oh and to clarify the "nothing spectacular" was talking about stress, not the poem. that I dig.
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