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Color My Murder
Uh.
Poem 15
All that's Left Is You

When the craze, the anxiety settles in
The feeling isn't like one pin
It's more like sinking, drowning
A lowering of blood circulation, sickening.
Your mind grows weak, closing in
Your heart grows slow, still, beating
for seemingly no reason.
As it dawns on you, your eyes close on instinct
Air filtering ever slowly through your nostrils
When the sinking has reached the bottom,
your heart takes a sudden jolt,
and panic races through you and takes hold.

It finally slows.
No more emptiness,
no longer living with eerie pain... and
Everything is going slow motion.
Sound, dialogue, noise is a blur
All that's left is you, of that you're sure.
the light dapples across your skin,
A breeze, relief, spreads, caresses your chin.
The racing is gone.
Panic, anxiety is done.
All that's left is you, and that is your cure.





 
 
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