Frigid fingers running down my spine
Wrapping around and squeezing my lungs
Coating me in thick layers of ice.
I'm forcing my feet flat on the ground,
Gripping onto the present so tightly
My knuckles turn an **** shade of bone white.
Eyes darting, landing on things
In the now, hoping to not get lost
In hidden movies that attack me from the shadows
Mental VHS tapes that replay in high definition
Making me doubt my sanity.
Terror running so deep that I reach for blades
To carve not just into my skin
But my very own identity.
Chopping off chunks to store the flash flood
Without drowning in the swamp.
This saving grace rapidly turning
Into the one and only thing, I may not survive.
Shards, past broken off come back
So brittle and sharp they threaten to pierce
My heart at the slightest wrong move.
I have lived through one war only to enter another
That seems to have higher stakes.
Panic freezes my veins and leaves
Beads of cold sweat on my flesh.
I am paralyzed and frigid.
Gasping for each and every breath.