Sad

Wrote this coming out of a panic attack. Helpless scribble on social anxiety

I had my childhood handed to me.

Grew up without fear 

Of phoning

Of asking

Of living

But now

The ground is pulled out beneath my feet

And suddenly I'm grown.

"Should have learned ages ago" they say

But no-one ever taught me

I scream for help but no-one hears

"Just ask"

"Phone for an appointment"

No no no no no

You don't understand

Only the sharp blade and the panic in my heart 

Reminds me that I'm still alive

There's Something Wrong With Me 

I can't go on

Reviews

[Relic]

I've seen these type of descriptions and statements before. I suppose its like being on a tightrope with no net beneath you. The blood flows faster and the heat on your forehead increases. Somehow releasing blood makes it feel better for some. You could say it is a way of releasing a part of you as though you were purging a decease that only you can detect.

I've had them before in the past. I know the immediacy of the moment and wanting to run or melt into a puddle and wash away. I can only wish you well. If it helps to write than do so. Just remember those scars get more ugly and noticeable in the future.

[Baba_Uman]

Nice one Beth.. keep going like this ☺

[Peter Rogerson]

Crikey, you're sad? I've just read this and now I'm sad! And you're only 17! 17 and convincing poet - I might as well burn my quill and eat my manuscript!!!
By which I mean good.

[Beth]

Well thanks but I'm not really a poet. I bat them out in 20 mins when I get an idea. I'm nowhere near as proud of them as my stories

[Victoriana]

I think you're a very good writer. I could easily relate to most of your poems, as I'm sure as do a lot of others. This work gives this sensation of being understood without becoming typical "crying, starring at the window" stuff. I probably read everything you publish:) Can't wait for more!:)