3:00 A.M.

This poem comes from a 3AM panic attacked I had. Enjoy.

It's 3:00 in the morning.
And I’m awake.
Not by choice—
but because my body decided
to sound the alarm
that something is wrong.

Panic presses down,
tight as a coffin lid.
Claustrophobia crawls under my skin.
And hopelessness—
it’s here again,
nibbling at the edges of my mind,
getting bolder
every night.

I can’t think.
Can’t string words together.
Can’t remember
what it …