Something on Fear

Sometimes the fear leaps upon you so suddenly, without warning, the Being is devastated before defense is possible. It comes armed with teeth with which to devour your spirit, claws with with which to rip out your soul, leaving not even tears with which to weep.

It hides, the fear, under your quiet despair, lingers under the edges of the happy times, waiting to rush through those moments of self-doubt, those cracks in the window of your ego. It is a nameless force, or else you wish not to know its name, but, in truth, inattention is a poor fortress.

There is a good verse, here, waiting to be sculpted.


About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
This entry was posted in Personal, Poetry ?, POT POURRI and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Something on Fear

  1. PennyD says:

    Yup. agree. Claws of fear, everyone has had them.


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