The Shape of Fear

We fear the dark, not for its hue,

But for the things we never knew.

The whispers hid behind the night,

The thoughts that dance beyond our sight.

We fear the silence, not the sound,

For in that hush, our hearts are found.

Every beat a fragile cry,

Of dreams we lost, of truths that lie.

We fear the mirror’s quiet stare,

The self we see — the self laid bare.

The flaws, the masks, the tender scars,

The weight of who we truly are.

We fear the end, the last goodbye,

Not death itself — but asking why?

For every breath we dare to take,

Reminds us what we might forsake.

We fear because we still can feel,

Because we hope the wounds will heal.

And though our fears may chain us near,

To be afraid means life is here.