In a sweeping moment
Her train of thought
Comes to an end.
She checks the time
And pulls herself together.
She could feel her pulse
Hammering.
A sense of purpose
Overtaking.
She walks to the front door
In strides of self pity
A turn of the door ****
A step out to the unknown.
She was nailed to the spot
Her fears, palpable.
Her heart beat
Like a metronome.
And sweat
Like salty rain.
There's no courage
Her head spins with pain.
She hesitates,
As always before.
The fireplace, the warmth
A book and a cup of tea
Or the queasiness
Of being outside
Her comfort zone.
She turns back,
And finds her way to her hole
Why do I bother?
She can't help but think.
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe never.
Her heart beats
Like a metronome.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
In a sweeping moment
Her train of thought
Comes to an end.
She checks the time
And pulls herself together.
She could feel her pulse
Hammering.
A sense of purpose
Overtaking.
She walks to the front door
In strides of self pity
A turn of the door ****
A step out to the unknown.
She was nailed to the spot
Her fears, palpable.
Her heart beat
Like a metronome.
And sweat
Like salty rain.
There's no courage
Her head spins with pain.
She hesitates,
As always before.
The fireplace, the warmth
A book and a cup of tea
Or the queasiness
Of being outside
Her comfort zone.
She turns back,
And finds her way to her hole
Why do I bother?
She can't help but think.
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe never.
Her heart beats
Like a metronome.
Completely fictional. An attempt at trying to capture the feeling of being agoraphobic.
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