Where does the fear go
With nothing to hold onto
Free falling?
It clutches my ribs
It stings the back of my throat
And crawls down my back.
It is like starring down
The cannon’s maw
In that terrible half second
Before detonation
With no place to hide.
Where does the fear go
When it seeps
From my finger tips
And clutches
My gut?
It is like running
Through flame
Inhaling ash and fire
Greasy smoke
Blinding my eyes
Streaming my throat
Like molten bile.
Where does the fear go
When I am no longer here
To give it shelter?
Where does the fear go?
Monday, January 5, 2015
Free Falling
Posted by The Dashboard Poet at Monday, January 05, 2015
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