This irrational
On the border
Of outright panic,
Trembling limbs
And shallow breath
And racing mind,
Every grim idea
A potential reality,
Every move delayed
In fear of fault
Or failure,
Shyly shrinking back,
A quiet coward,
Imagining the worst
Instead of asking
Simple questions,
This irrational
Comes and goes,
Returns and
Fretfully flows
As I forget to breathe,
As I try to find the words
To ask such
Simple questions
Instead of dreaming
Awful answers.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Secret Christmas Sonnet