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Oct 2014
It started with a phone call.

Sweat drips down my forehead
my mind is jumbled
my
pulse races
irr  e  gu  l  a  rl  y
and my heart is
its competitor.

The room feels smaller
and the faces around me
b
l
u
r
into nothing.

What is happening?
Why can’t I breathe?

I can’t stand up right,
my palms too sweaty
to grasp
the
nearest
surface.

It started with a phone call,
and it ended with a hard
crash
to the floor.
Copyright 10-19-2014 Elizabeth Lawrence ©
Elizabeth Lawrence
Written by
Elizabeth Lawrence  Massachusetts
(Massachusetts)   
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