by Rickey Rivers Jr.
It's creeping up behind you.
You're sure that it'll find you.
It haunts you, mutes you, binds you.
It stalks you in the day.
It teases you at night.
You can't get away, though you try with all might.
It's breathing down your neck.
It's hiding in the dark.
You can't forget about it.
It's left a lasting mark.
It was there when you were young.
It'll be there when you are old.
It makes you feel wet, sticky, and cold.
From sweat, from tears, because you know it's near.
It makes you uncomfortable when it whispers in your ear.
Why are you shaken, screaming out for help?
The only thing to fear is the fear of fear itself.