you've not slept a wink
but the ugly truth glares
right back at you through the fog and is pushing
you quietly with its bony fingers, in the small of
your back. laughing and taunting, provoking and probing
some ridiculous interference, or a crazed mania
that begins setting your teeth on edge.
'you can't fight fire with fire,' your mother always said.
but that's not true and the green
eyed purple headed monster that is fear will
rear his ugly head, again and again and grimace at you
pushing you down into the muddy ground,
beating you into submission. and he's making a deal of it,
trying to slowly wear you down, bit by bit.
'give up' he growls, eyes flashing wildly.
but the warrior inside you soldiers onwards.
you'd be a sorry sight curled up on the floor, wracking
sobs tearing through your fragile body.
none of this makes sense to your little
brain. but it should. your mother told you it would be
'a wild goose chase, you're the one who'll win, not fear.'
but in your heart of hearts, you knew that was just consolation
for the child who was scared of the monster under the bed
the expectancy of life is so much worse than she ever promised
*and it's not safe. you're not safe. no one's ever safe from fear itself