I am afraid. So afraid.
I am afraid of the things that are happening and the things going on around me. Fear from so many irrational things thrive on the thoughts in my mind. I do not like them and the feelings that now fill me make me more afraid. I am afraid of things I know will never happen and so many things that I know aren't true.
I am afraid. So afraid.
I feel like I am less because I am afraid. I do not like to think that of myself like that and yet, while I still walk amuck on this earth I am so relentlessly walking with nothing to lose. Why am I afraid?
I am afraid. So, so afraid.
The capability that I can think of anything is frightening. The fact that I can think of any question is a idea I am afraid of. Questioning stupid things in my head does not make me feel any better about those ideas.
I am afraid. So very afraid.
What does if feel like to die? That is one of the many things I think about. I thought about what will happen afterwards and I don't know. Will I feel anything? Will I deserve to see anything again? Will it be black? Will I ever know?
I am confused. I am afraid. I am frightened of what my friends will think of me.
What will I go through in my life? What will the other people around me do? I see them staring and I don't know why. Why are they whispering and what about? What are they doing to other and why are they doing those things? Why are they saying the things they say!?
They make me very afraid. So, so afraid.
Why do others fear? What are they afraid of? Are they like me? Do they fear closure? Emptiness? Why do they judge people based on they own insecurities? What will it do for anything? Why do they hate when they make up the things they hate about other people? Why do I do it sometimes?
They are afraid. So very afraid of the world.
One of the things I can make up in my head can only be true if I make it be. I do make them true. Why do I let the fears be true to me? Would beings from another world hurt me? I make them in my memories. They appear in the distance. They make me hide away.
I am afraid. I am afraid of my imagination.
Why is there a feeling inside me that makes me want to be remembered for something? Why am I that greedy? The feelings inside me only will make the thoughts in my head grow stronger. But what will I do? How can I stop the things I am afraid of from being real in my mind? Will they ever?
I am afraid of the things I will do, I am afraid of the things I will become and I am afraid of what I will do next. How will I be? When will I grow?
I am afraid and I don't know if I will ever stop being afraid of the things I do. I wish I could be.
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Wishing for the Unforeseen
PoetryNo matter what's thought, poetry makes people think and thinking does something. It creates new horizons for anybody who just listens to the fluttering wings of thoughts. The thumping, and the feeling of the amazing. The wondrous flight of the new w...
