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I had recoiled back to my shell,

Rolled back to solitude,

Because the constant solicitude

had kicked in earlier.

I tried, I fought,

But it was stronger, so

I gave in, like a passive wife.

Then came stuttering,

Sweaty palms,

tachycardia.

Alas, it had kicked in again,

I thought I was sufficiently self aware,

As I traipsed along the podium,

Of the hell, the cage,

I had put myself into,

Without even knowing it,

Unconsciously.

Then It surfaced,

subconsciously.

Then, I discovered that this

proclivity,

Is innate.