Fear

All I fear, all I'm afraid of, glimpses of just a faint figure as which is the number that I call to help me end it. Every time I walk in the rain it scares me that I might get struck by lightning. I'm scared I may get sick, I'm scared as the thunder growls and the drizzle turns from a whistle to a loud, mournful cry.

 Every time I meet someone new I'm paranoid with thoughts like, if I look like a fool, like, if I made a good impression, or even, if I scare them. I'm afraid to say anything since what I say may not even matter to them. I'm afraid of the long awkward silences where I can't do anything but twiddle my fingers around the other.
 Every time I eat I find it hard just to take a bite, all i can think about is, if the animal was well taken care of, or if the cook was happy while preparing the food. I'm afraid of possible chemicals  inside everything that I just end up not even eating.
 Every time I speak I'm scared to death that my grammar is incorrect or if all the shatter pieces of glass, my words, form the proper mosaic which I chose for the portrayal of my sentence. I'm afraid to remain silent, unable to get my words across when they may be needed. Afraid that words aren't enough for the expression of myself and all feelings will sound perverse.

 What a curse it is to live in fear of the hearse and the coffin. Fear of death, fear of life, and fear of that in between. Fear of every pain caused by fear creating a stain upon my window. Every cry for joy empty from the fear that it will never last. Every situation a die is cast making me fear the outcome. Misinterpretations, miscommunications, misunderstandings, all the same, making my body and mind stink of fear. The odor consumes me so that I may no longer be able to face my fear, my eyes glazed over by the smoke which contains the smell of a slaughter house, or maybe even a hospital. Where each creature awaits their turn for Death to open the door and in a sweet, yet plastic, smile he says "You're next"