Fear

In the middle of the night

they call your name.

they call you to war,
with every breath they take,

(breathebreathebreathe/don’t*let*them*see*you*weak\breathebreathebreathe)

You’re light headed and knobby kneed
callused hands and surefooted
of the fact that they’ll eat you alive,
if they catch you,
if you falter,
so you pause,
think of a battle plan,
and you run.

Run into their arms, because nothing can save you anyway.
Its better to go willingly,
than to fail and be caught
like a rabbit during hunting season.

After all, you think,fear only exists if you let it.

The End

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