Fragments of the Heart

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© DaniyahA

F R A G M E N T - 23

Panic Attack

I was cold in a warm room,
chills crawling up my spine,
the air too thick to consume.
I told myself I was fine.

My body was not mine,
because it moved on its own,
horror breaking the sanity line.
I felt dead to the bone.

From a scale of ten,
the shaking was nine,
icy breezes engulfed me again.
Invisible frost bit me like a canine.

I could not breath,
nor could I gasp,
so I fell to my knees.
At my throat, pressure clasped.

For the very first time,
I felt vulnerable and trapped,
as lousy as a dime.
Around my body, hopelessness wrapped.

It was a cage without a key,
a blazing fire with no escape,
and I was suffering silently.
Freedom was left to shape.

In the distance,
was the recitation of God's words,
beautiful wisdom and assistance,
more harmonious than the chirping of birds.

At last my lungs caught air,
the beast in my stomach faded,
and the burden on my shoulders I could bare.
Consciousness pooled into my mind and invaded.

After an hour,
I closed the Holy Book,
and was as confident as a tower.
It all felt like I was in a storybook.

But after the battle had ended,
and my victory shook,
I had an epiphany that wasn't the least bit splendid:
The entire time, my panicking was overlooked.