When I shun my meds or refuse to sleep
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I take on a dark aspect first and hear
a ghost-like clock tick-tocking in my ear
as if from a morbid place buried deep
in the recesses of my troubled mind
where I fret then panic with mammoth fear
as I feel Death approaching all too near
with every gasped-for breath of air I take!
As I hyperventilate my lungs scream
for oxygen that's not inhaling there
and suddenly my life ebbs as I feel
I am drowning, drowning for lack of air
under an ocean of thick, choking steam
so crystal clear and real that it's surreal.
"To have the soul of a poet is to feel with the mind, and to think with the heart."