The kind that makes you want to scream

You could hear a pin dropif you had one


you're alone

In a dark, damp room.

No light,

no movement,



Your heartbeat,

steadily feels louder.

You can hear the stale air if you twitch.

Every breath is nails on a chalk board;

a bomb going off inside you.

Every turn of the head is a jet flying over your dull mind.


The oxygen fills up your ears.

Pressure. They ache from the pain.

They need to just pop already.


You hear buzzing that isn't there.

All other thoughts leave your head.

You are a plant.

Not blinking, not thinking,

not moving.


The buzzing turns into a monotonous humming,

a generator far away.

Then the wind,

passing through your empty skull.




The door opens.

Light blinds you.



You scream.





The kind that forces you to smile.

You could only hear a pin drop if you tried. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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