My silent stalker
is always lurking
preying on me
when I’m least
expecting.
Invisible hands
around my throat
slowly squeezing
the life from me.
The world is spinning,
the room is shrinking,
lights grow brighter,
and voices sharpen.
Creeping alongside me
my ghostly predator
the nemesis I can’t see,
Yet I can feel
everything.
My skin is crawling,
my mind is shaking.
Suffocating,
no escaping.
This anxious feeling
is never-ending.
Haunting me,
relentlessly.
I can’t breathe.
It’s killing me.
I can’t breathe.
It killed me.
S. L. Wyllie
