When I was a child
I would watch from my window
as the other kids played in the courtyard
My mother said it was dangerous
That I shouldn’t mix with that kind of crowd
And so the idea was planted
that the world is far too dangerous
to be lived

I’m not afraid of heights, but of the fall.
I’m not afraid of addiction, but of the withdrawals.
I wish I could stop these circling thoughts,
But they keep on spinning.
I’m not afraid of imperfection, but of failure,
Miserably luring me,
To an askew belief.
If I fail once, was I a failure all along?
Can I do anything right?
Just add it to the tally,
Ever growing.
Another note to my somber song.
I’m not afraid to die, but of saying goodbye.
These thoughts, while dark sometimes,
I’d give everything to think of them one last time.
These fears remind me that I’m alive.
I’m not afraid of people, but of being judged.
Anxiety plunging me,
Into fictitious security.
Perhaps, I’m better off on my own,
All alone.
But you lose the chance to form connections,
To enjoy the people that surround you.
Perhaps, I should stop playing this game,
And admit that I am very much afraid.

In honor of getting older,
wiser, sillier and bolder -
I have decided to take the shackles off.
They keep me safe, but curse me soft.
As my life has flashed before my eyes,
Suddenly, I have come to realize -
   I haven’t lived enough
      I haven’t loved enough
         I haven’t danced,
            nor laughed hard enough.

Our guards keep out, the hurt and healing, 
When we meet, shrouded in protective walls. 
Each awaits the other to take the first step, 
Both carrying wounds and too afraid to fall.

Those cursed with the soul of a nomad,  
Thrive on the adventure of each new road.  
Fearful of settling at a final destination,  
They steer clear of any stagnation.  
Avoidants are the type they tend to seek,
Hoping this path leads to the ultimate peak.

Lucky, lucky me
                                  self fulfilling prophecy

                     fear looks good on me

A piece of gum sticks to scuffed tennis shoes

Sidewalk cities all turn blue

Kitchen lights flicker deadly hues


But for the few that fear the dark

They stole a life, not faint of heart

A candle burns out, a dying art


Now all is glass with shattered bone

Growing cities turn to stone

Freedom from all that is known


So take a moment, two, or three

To look down, stare at your feet

Remind yourself of their defeat


Lest you face a similar fate,

Of growing old and growing hate

Release your fears and create