Fear
I learned silence before I learned safety.
Walked on eggshells,
holding my breath
so the storm would pass me by.
I hid my tears in dark corners,
carried anger in small shaking hands,
moved from house to house
never feeling wanted.
Even now,
I flinch at sudden movements,
look over my shoulder,
live with fear stitched into my skin.
You broke pieces of me
with your cruelty, your neglect,
your hands, your words.
And the hardest part—
I was never allowed
to say how much it hurt.
Now all that remains
is the rage,
and the hatred
for the one who taught me fear.
Walked on eggshells,
holding my breath
so the storm would pass me by.
I hid my tears in dark corners,
carried anger in small shaking hands,
moved from house to house
never feeling wanted.
Even now,
I flinch at sudden movements,
look over my shoulder,
live with fear stitched into my skin.
You broke pieces of me
with your cruelty, your neglect,
your hands, your words.
And the hardest part—
I was never allowed
to say how much it hurt.
Now all that remains
is the rage,
and the hatred
for the one who taught me fear.
Every poem has worth because it channels a personal experience. What matters most are meaningful insights and strong expression—these cannot be set aside. Formal structure or strict rhythm is secondary when the poem succeeds in conveying its intended message. This poem in free verse springs from a single, quietly potent fear taking shape in the mind. However, it lacks emotional strength that slackens the pace of expression. The reason is that the limitation curtails the poet's freedom of expression.