F E A R

Fear dwells within,

a potent, unwelcome guest,

dramatic and bold,

claiming its space

for the long years ahead.

Buying flowers to brighten up the place,

and all the everyday necessities, too.

A fridge to keep the bad feelings away.

A freezer to sidestep certain wants,

since frozen items are easier to dismiss.

The washing machine scrubs away his sins,

and there are many.

They're spread across countries, cities, circumstances,

where grime has settled deep.

He clings to the tiny spaces under his fingernails,

and he needs to get rid of it all.

Once the laundry's finally finished,

he throws open every window

letting out the guilt and hopelessness.

Nothing ever seems to improve

when he's around, a real homebody.

He's a dictator by trade and makes no secret of it.

He's not hiding in your closet, among your clothes.

Instead, he's right there, smack in the middle of your living room,

dancing on the coffee table and ruining your day.

He's reading your books and watching TV,

avoiding your gaze and being a pest.

He'd tell you the most ridiculous stories

demanding you believe every word.

“The ceiling could collapse; those cracks

are really bad.”

Something like that.

Then, the very next day,

he'd vanish, like steam from a kettle.

You weren't supposed to miss him, and yet

this uneasy itch lingers.

You're wondering where he's gone.

Well, I can tell you:

He'll be back, without a doubt.

He'll show up again when you least expect it,

repeating all the annoying things,

the things you'll wish he'd never brought up.

He's a sly one, that guy, built from dangerous stuff.

Never forget to be ready.

He might show up unexpectedly

and wreck your life's design perpetually.

He'll ruin your job and all your connections -

that's just how cold he is.