Thick Salt Soup

When that sweat starts it can be difficult to stop and remain calm. It add so much to the worry, it feels like it justifies your anxiousness – this added stress of physical appearance you could really do without. Then there comes a hated of yourself, blaming yourself for how panicked you are becoming, when it really isn’t your fault, but this isn’t a logical state. That is what I’ve tried to display in this poem.

I can feel it slickening
Can’t you see it on my skin?
Is it a thick salt soup now?
How can I go? It’s impossible. No.
And the onset of the panic,
A drip of sweat and I feel sick,
Here it comes again – and I sigh.
Why must I shake?! Just stop for goodness sake.


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