Where the Real Fear Lies...


I'm not scared of anything.

I'm not scared of shadows into the night.

I'm not scared of people in red and white tents who wear shoes that are size of Alaska and looks like crayola ganged banged their face.

I'm not scared of loud booming noises in the dark unforseeing sky.

Or flashes of light from the heavens.

I'm not scared of tiny creatures who has eight legs and spins webs of doom.

No, I believe that the real fear is you.

Yes, you.

Any one of you.

You can waltz  right into my life,

 with a face that tells of friendship and trust,

and I can believe you.

You can begin as a fly on the wall,

but at the end of the night practically family.

Then you can lace posion into conservations with people that I hold dearly,

ones who holds pieces of me,

and you can posion those pieces. 

Whiether you go full force,

or slowly, but surely.

And I could watch my whole world fall apart in front of my very eyes.

It wouldn't matter what I say. 

For the seed of doubt always linger behind every,

"But everythings okay now."

Besides, is ever truly okay again?

No matter how false the alligations were.

And my once fairytale life,

will turn into a not of what was

and what could be

and what should be 


why me?

With a note attched to a corpse.

So don't you see who really is to fear?

Because you can turn the lights on,

and you know they are just people playing pretend.

Because you can always muffled the noise,

or wait for the storm to pass.

Besides, heaven goes to sleep eventually.

And hell, you can buy a can of bug spray.

But your words are deadly!

My friends, my foe, or whoever you decide to call yourself, 

hear my warning!

Hear my calls!

Hear my cries!

Listen to my pleas!

Watch out for what you say!

Why else would they say,

"A pen is much mighter than a sword."


Poetry Slam: 


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