I wanted to ask you what you were afraid of,
When in reality it is I whom fear some thing.
I guess I just wanted to universalize the trope,
That such feeling is common for us living.

I suffer, once again, from the imagination,
Of the death of the ego, the shame of it all,
The inevitability embraced with anticipation,
Remains of the image come to finally fall.

Yet a part of me thinks it would be relief,
To go through the worst thing I can think,
It might usher me towards a new belief,
Remind of fleeting feelings - gone in a blink.

I take comfort in those I know, who knows me,
Especially the inner child in my mind and body,
I may die, but I will live, as it all should be,
For now, I’ll breathe in and out, and stay steady.