Fits of hyper-venti-lation
With no seemingly logical explanation.

All you’ve done is say those six sharp words,
That are now stabbing you in the back, just like swords.

Your thoughts jumbled up in a giant mess,
Lost in all of the dark, heavy stress.

And it’s all pressed
On your quivering, fragile chest.

It feels like a never ending pit.
No one seems to understand it.

And now all you’re left with,
is that dizzy-making, stomach-churning hell of a fit

Attack, pressed, cornered
Trapped with no where to go

Expecting, watching, judging
How can I speak when I'm out of breath

Disloyal, appalled, betrayal
Warm faces disguise cruelty

Rushing, gushing, maddening
A lump in my throat, tears threatening to flow

Misunderstanding, misdemeanor, misery
Have to fight the tears, give no satisfaction

Frozen, paralyzed, immobile
Quietly surrendered to the abyss

Crazed, insane, dementia
They can't get me now

Masked with their actions
No emotions shown
They've got me
But I too, have got them.