We are hurtling through
the night and I
am hunched in my seat
on the front of this
metal beast, with my music
pounding in my ears, much like
the way my heart
pounds even
as I write to you. You
are scared of tomorrow, I
am scared of right now and all
the uncountable thousands
Of what-ifs. A behemoth
carrying other beasts like a mother
duck carrying fuzzy ducklings passes
on my right and I
flinch instinctively, though
no duckling caused this wariness
in the pit of my stomach.
Your fear paralyzes me, and
my fear is not
only for me, but multiplied,
for your scars
will never heal, should I disappear
Today.