Panic

The clock ticks slowly

Yet fast and maliciously

Time is running out

No time to flee

Heart hammering

Breath quickening

Bones paralyzed

Quaking with fear

In shoes that are

Drenched in sweat

Your hands feel clammy

Cool and dry

All at the same time

Which you don't have

You can't run

Nor can you hide

It's coming

Paranoia kicks in

You can't even scream

Your voice is snatched

A murmur to stop

A mumble of plea

You mutter a no

But it's useless 

Can't you see

Doom is looming

Darkness descending

The end is soon arriving

The seconds slide by

Mockingly

Like a swift hawk

Or perhaps

An agonizing snail

It's torture for sure

Mind racing

As you think

Whatever for

Chest aching

Growing still

Your ears hear whispers

Cracks

Pure fright if you will

Your mind and body

Is trapped among thorns

Of a terror so intense

So miserably furious

A snare set upon you

Begging for it to end

Like a desperate dummy

Needing relief soon

But hours seem to pass

Weeks and months

Years and decades

Until finally a shred of hope blooms

Slow and steady

The clock ticks slower

Without missing a beat

Avoiding certain disaster.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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