This is the fear that burrows in the nighttime
an unexplained heart that stutters
an explanation that begs itself to another window
one your soul refuses to open
anxiety, it is a form of self explanation
somewhere, something or the other will happen
a glass will shatter, a building will fall
an idea will become another
fear those who do not speak,
because those who do reflect themselves
with light and fire
with ice and disaster
but those who do not speak
think, of deeper desires
like an unnecessary apology
that comes in late, never grants gratitude
fear this or that-
you know, you have never experienced
real fear, until your heart
couldn't stop beating with a rigor that defies
your soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment