(An A to Z Challenge entry)
That feeling of unable to catch your breath
and waiting for the next opportunity to jump
overwhelms me. Trepidation of sweat and tears
bead on my forehead.
My mind can’t stop racing,
running marathons inside my skull,
passing thoughts back and forth
like a game of Frisbee.
I CAN’T THINK.
My hands clam up so bad that
if we were playing Paddle Ball,
I wouldn’t need Velcro to catch
every ball containing fear, worry
My heart is beating so fast
that it sounds like a snare drum
thumping inside my ribs.
Finally the time comes.
I pop my pill and wait.
And for the next few hours,
I can experience moments
of calm and quiet,
and I can finally rest.
Disclaimer: I have not had any experience with Xanax and am not attempting to imply I know anything about it. I gathered the emotional content for this poem based off some personal experience as well as some research. I am not promoting the use of drugs — every decision must be made on an individual basis. This poem is simply created to qualify as my “X” post for the A to Z Challenge.