POEM - Just a Tickle

A tickle
In the corner
Back there
Hovering above my trachea
Irritating my uvula
A drying, mocking scratch
The early warning system
Calling out the news
Something isn't right
My whole soul
Sitting in solemn assembly
Trying to behave
Maintain a modicum of propriety
While a fierce battle rages
Teeth clenched
Amid convoluted machinations
In advanced suppression efforts
Then the conflict sharpens
Constricted neck muscles
A welling of tears
Shortness of breath
Until quaking convulsions
Burst through the fortifications
In a hacking roar
Ripping along soft tissue
A moist rocketing battering ram
Destroying peace
Shaking foundations​
Broadcasting the news
Of a losing skirmish