This fear

Smirks, chuckles, mirth and evil grins filling the air,

Hundreds of tiny eyes are fixed on me,

They're waiting for me to f**k something up, I swear,

The sad thing is, with them, I do agree.

Pens start writing, controlled by dying skin masses,

The ink glides upon their perfect papers,

The Point of happiness and success, he passes,

His smart tendencies did not taper.

The pen held by my dying skin cells just could not,

Scratchy, black ink follows my shaking hand,

F**k! Maybe someone's staring at me in my blind spot?

My days aren't filled with calmness like I planned

I cant do anything, my hand stops dead,

Will I ever get over this fear?

I will punish myself later, I will have bled,

Every cut is triggered by a sneer.

Will this f*****g nightmare ever be over?

Will I be stuck fearing judgement forever?

Will I always be a mirthless, reckless rover?

even just this is hard to endeavour.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is powerful...debilitating feeling to be so obsessed with failure, that we cannot move a muscle in the direction of success...
and too often we punish ourselves literally or figuratively.
i think the pen wishes to write happy...why can't it?
j.