born to a reality full of scared sheep in wolf skin and fur,
it bred in me cowardice like I had not known.
I bared my teeth to seem brave
but it did not look menacing,
no.

what are they so afraid of?
what am I?
they are so enslaved by their fears that it seems almost like devotion.
like gods venerated by their disciples, so too were the evils that that who surround me run from.

this was not me.
I was not afraid.
this was by nurture and not by nature.
it was a seed thrown at my feet that bore so much fruit,
that the ground covered in rot.
and now it has spread,
corrupting me from the outside in.
I am made in fear.
I am made of fear.