a poem: Panic!

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Originally written for a contest in which I had to take the titles of five of another poet's poems and work them into a poem, myself.. This is the result.

Titles: Wounds, Uncaged, the Axe, Erosion, Killing time.
Panic

It's killing time
in the battle
of my mind.

Spiritual warfare.

Pulled astray,
I swing back
another fray.

The mess that's left
from battle wounds,
Open my chest;

See the battlefields
upon which
my axe, I wield.

"Save me from myself!"
I cry aloud, enraged.
"I want freedom!"
Now I am left uncaged.

"I'm not sure I can handle this
what would happen if I fall or miss?"

I feel the rumble
of explosions
as the field undergoes
erosion.

Thus my hand still grips the axe,
in readiness for
another attack.

Writer's Block: Taking It Personally

[Error: unknown template qotd]I am an INFP according to Myers-Briggs. Supposedly rare.  Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling and Perceiving.
~Mab