Sweaty Hands

Gah, finnally got this one up, it took me like 2 weeks to figure out i put it under a lamp >. hahaha
but here, its not the best, it was a representaion of a nightmare i had been having at that time.


Sweaty Hands, are they not.
As they try to pick the mech on this lock.
My hands are sweaty, bloody, and broken.
From this evil, lieing, prying notion.
Tears are no-where to be found.
A pool of blood is upon the ground.
I'm escaping from a terror unfound.
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins.
As much to where I feel no pains.
This terror lurking, this terror unkown.
Hides in the shadows, hiding its frown.
I know not what it is, but i do not care.
I'm concentrated on this lock, it is hard to beare.
Breathing down my own neck.
Im fumbling with the pick.
I shall escape, the darkness not to consume me.
It's creeping torwards me, the chilling is before me.
Im getting proturbed, disturbed, and distraught.
This adrenaline pumping anger, not fear, as my throat has a knot.
The pick breaks in the lock.
My heart pumps a shock.
My anger explodes, my fist now a tool.
I know it'll hurt, but im a fool.
It but breaks and crumbles.
Stuned that it worked, I no longer fumble.
The gate is now open, welcoming me to the world.
Taking my first step as i fall to the ground.
I realize that im to late.
I've become cold.
My leg has crumbled.
And the rest of me.
Soon shall follow.

Interested in what kind of structure it would have when it's finished. It's great verse, and I like the allusion to picking a lock. Nice work!