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Jun 2016
I take a breath and close my eyes
And whisper "please, just let it pass".
My heart beats fast, my chest is tight,
I feel I'll break, I'm made of glass.

I want to scream, but lack the air,
The best that I can do is cry
And in the midst of all of this
I'm certain this is how I'll die.

I just need you to give me room
I just want you to hold me tight
I need silent reassurance,
I need to think I'll be alright.

My legs are weak; my heavy arms
Can do little to calm the storm.
My mind, my trap, my prison cell,
My oldest foe in truest form.

I close my eyes, I clinch my fist
And take another heavy breath,
And silently, I pray for peace,
Some cadence or merciful death.
Anxiety disorder, ptsd, and me- til death do us part.
Clayborn Todd Wooton
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