Panic is the color of hospital lights.
It sounds like a screeching crash.
It tastes like bitter medicine.
And smells like a cocktail of chemicals.
Panic looks like an accident scene.
And makes you feel like you can’t breath.
2 years later…
When going through a panic, you look for comfort.
You seek for the smell of safety.
You reach for the cup of water, to wash that god forsaken taste.
You try to go to utopia in your head.
Trying to escape from panic, hear the angelic silence.
And try to control each breath.
I wrote this about two years ago, and
decided i should add on to it as i learn.