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It’s tangible only by feel or scent,
And each time it is felt, you feel spent.
It draws you up to those high hills,
Then back down, succumbed over your own will.
It holds you prisoner forever or for a day.
Every emotion passing through your body in its own way.
That fear that wraps around you like a thorned rose,
Pricking the heart, each tear of blood glows.
Making you scream and cry,
Until those tears run dry.
Feeling bereft and left to decide.
To bow your head, swallowing your pride.
Trying to push it all aside.
But it just jumps back in full stride.
Attacking when you least expect it,
As venomous as a ball of snakes in a pit.
Why does it start and when does it stop?
Who is to say, it follows no clock.
It will always be there just within reach,
Waiting for a hole in your walls so it can breech.
But when it strikes and you indeed have caused it,
It takes more then love and rapiers wit..
It takes time and energy, endurance and love.
To move through it and rise above.
