Fight or Flight

This will assuredly not go well,
Something says within me.
The ancient instincts,
The heart and soul
Smell such things distinctly.
Every sense with every other fights
To judge the situation,
A sixth sense kicks in
For mortal control
Last gasp of preservation.
I become my own tormentor
In a hall of clashing mirrors,
Make my own ambush
Hyper vigilance as
The animal in me shivers.
Nothing solidly dependable
And try hard though I might,
With nerves scraped raw,
When nothing holds,
It is time for fight or flight.