Fear holds power, wears a crown, and sits on a thrown.
Power means control, preventing the best from happening, forcing us to obey the words it speaks. Forcing us to bow down to the dictator that is Fear itself. Forcing us to succumb to defeat and go yet another day without conquering what must be conquered, without changing what must be changed, and without overcoming what must be overcome.
We are under the voice of a King. One who sits mighty and high, overseeing us fall gracelessly into the mud. Smiling manically, enjoying the pain his people bear, laughing at the cries of the wounded, the pleas of broken children, and the death of those who couldn't take it anymore.
AN: Written by me.
