sometimes it’s loose or not there at all

I wish that was all the time.

Commonly, I feel tight.

Like someone’s got a grip on my heart and is squeezing hard,

It hurts, I hate it.

The grip is trying to tell me doom comes.

I believe it sometimes.

Terrified, i want to run away, to hide from it.

Mostly I want someone to tell me it will be ok and hold me.

'The Grip' by Andy Monks / Artist