I'm claustrophobic Each second that I spend In closed rooms and oceanic crowds, My heartbeats shoot through the sky, And my eyes host waterfalls And before long, I'm hyperventilating like a wind-powered machine, Fighting demons dressed as panic attacks.
I'm claustrophobic Each minute that I spend In an elevator to my home Which is on the 23rd floor, I keep whispering prayers Saying that I'll be home Before I know, But it just takes an eternity.
I'm claustrophobic Each week when I visit my therapist He tells me to close my eyes And keep breathing calmly, Eventually it'll stop the sweating And the lower the heart rate And right before I leave, He hands me a bottle of antidepressants.
I'm claustrophobic Each month on the last Monday I sit down with a group of people Who feel equally terrified in closed spaces We talk about incidents And nightmares and improvements And we applaud each time Someone shows signs of recovery.
I'm claustrophobic But I have shut myself up In a closet since 9 years Where I am hyperventilating, crying, Afraid to step out of it, For I know, despite all the rainbows, All I'll ever find Is thunderstorms and wildfires.