They ask what you fear. They ask what you fear and what is left but to tell them.
The fear of being colder than crystals.
Stiller than stone.
The fear of standing out, or of not.
Of letting go, of jumping. Of slipping down the rabbit hole but not wanting to climb out.
Of wanting to stay.
The fear of losing. Losing you. Losing them. Losing hope. Losing love.
What do you fear? They ask and what choice do you have to tell them.
The fear of being wrong, or worse, the fear of being right.
Of ringing true as a clock. Chiming in, chiming out. Empty words. Empty thoughts.
The fear that the sword will be too heavy. That one day, it will tumble from your fingers.
The fear you won’t be able to catch it when it does.
Oh, they ask, what keeps you awake? What keeps your heart racing fast?
Faster than the others. As fast as a horse. No- a train.
And what do you tell them? Oh, what do you say when they demand this of you?
Do you tell them the fear of ruining everything? Of seeing the ashes and remains
Flutter to the ground and all you can do is watch?
Or do you tell them the truth? What you fear the most? What you see in your eyes, in theirs
The fear of the wicked game. Of placing your piece on the board and awaiting your destruction
For what you fear they cannot know. You cannot tell them, yet you do.
What choice do you have, really?
Of telling them what you fear.
The fear of becoming them.
The fear of being human.