Treasure Island

Janice M Pickett

(Middlesex England)

The Me inside of Me

A touch of unreality requires a deep understanding of oneself
The times that we stand outside our inner being
lost to what could be moments even hours
feeling there are two of us instead of one
that this is not you and can never be

Knowing all our senses are functioning to their fullest
and yet
we are stuck there unable to bring ourselves into the present

We hear every sound
We feel every nerve in our body as it pulsates and tingles
We know we are there in this space of nothing
unable to change it or react as we should
We are stuck in a moment of time

Sound echoes much louder than usual
Noises inside our head boom so loud they overpower us
Still we do nothing

we cannot move a muscle
still we must stay inside this unreality

Our every nerve, every sense, in suspension of time
We feel nothing
then silence and
Fight or flight takes over
The body reacts
emotions pour, relief floods the body
the nervous system kicks in once more

Such is the result of Fear
The most comprehensive use of all body senses there is

Submitted: Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Me inside of Me by Janice M Pickett )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson

The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »


Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]