I shouldn’t have to be scared of letting people know about me, but that was not what was going on in my head as I deleted this very poem yesterday out of fear that came from nowhere. Today, I found courage in myself to upload this again.

one person, then a group
one voice, then a cacophony
one blade, then a block of knives

to stab me, 
one beat,
one laughter,
one scream at a time

I run from the noise
like a tortoise running from a hare
into a corner where there is no border,
where the noise only grows louder 
and the pain only gets harsher

until I don’t know where I am anymore
I’m sinking but I can’t see the bottom,
I‘m drowning but I can’t feel the water,

the distorted orchestra continues its concert
and each musician rises from his or her seat
and turns into a grenade
the music stops

then bang

I’m back in my chair,
arms wrapped around my head
and tears running down my face

but I don’t know why. 

11 thoughts on “ Sensory Overload ”

  1. I’m fascinated by the way you have depicted the experience of being overwhelmed by something we cannot understand but something that grips us within and starts sucking everything in a vicious whirlpool, threatening to choke the life.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so glad that you were able to relate to this poem! I know that sensitivity to sound is something that many struggle with—but some people think we overreact, or that it can’t be as painful as we describe it—but it is. Thank you so much for the compliment 😀

      Liked by 1 person

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