fear

Street folk

A sharp scream that pierced the night,
echoing through the neighbourhood.
Its owner unknown, hidden amongst the black.
The street folk shifted, sensing something but not wanting to know.
Hands in pockets, gazes cast down, they shuffle forwards.
One more time, louder in the growing darkness.
Quick glance, one foot in front of the other.
Hurry now. Try not to be the last.

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Just Another Day - Poem

Just another day

Drip, drip,
you sit and watch.
Drip, drip,
the same old noise.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

Fix it, they say.
Fix it, they plead.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and stare.

Drip, drip,
it’s back again.
Drip, drip,
glass-eyed and numb.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

Do something, they say.
Anything, they hope.
Fix it, they scream.
You stop,
and smile.

Drip, drip,
you rise and fall.
Drip, drip,
You laugh, you scream.
Drip, drip,
just another day.

what makes you squirm poem

What makes you squirm 

A quick look,
a sneaky peek.
Eyes open wide,
pupils dilate.
Shock, horror.
What to say?
Stomach churning,
you turn away.

She looks at you,
a face of fear.
Lost for words,
eyes don’t linger.
Gaze cast down,
sorry you try.
Tears forming,
you wave goodbye.

A truth seen,
hard to digest.
She understands,
why you can’t.
One last glance,
forward you go.
A resounding sigh,
just another memento.

sea-night-ocean-dark-large

Hibernating 

Crawling, inching further,

Light burning down.

Covering, I tried to see.

It felt like years,

Years had passed.

What had changed?

Had they forgotten?

I looked down,

to check I was there.

Was this real?

The darkness loomed,

The light shone,

so bright ahead.

Fear, a nervousness.

It seemed so daunting.

Eyes pressed down.

‘Where have you been?’

It’s the unknown that makes you squirm 

It’s not that you don’t care.

It’s not that you don’t want to hear it. 

It’s not that you don’t want to see it. 

It’s that it makes you uncomfortable.

You don’t know what to do, say, think. So it’s easier to ignore it.

You don’t mean to turn away, to avert your eyes, hide your face. 

You do it before you realise that you are doing it. 

You carry on with what you know. 

What you feel comfortable with. 

What doesn’t confront what is inside of yourself. 

You squirm a little, so you move away. Move on. 

When you’re far enough away, far enough away so the debrises won’t come near you.  

You shoot a look. A quick one. Eyes widen. In that one look, they can see. 

They can understand, that you do not. 

But they know, they know that it’s not your fault. 

And you turn away, turn back, ignore, forget. Try to forget. 

And they sigh. And carry on, as best they can. 

The demon inside 

You fear the demons. 

But you fear talking about the demons more. 

You fear voicing them because then it makes them real.

You fear admitting them to others for the fear of being different. Not the good kind of different. 

You fear that the others can hear them. Can hear how crazy you really are.

You try to tell someone, about how it feels. How it feels like you are drowning in your own mind and body. 

How you wonder what would happen if you stepped over the yellow line. 

How you wonder if they’d notice. If you would scream. If they would hear. If they would see. 

How if you stop, you will fall. How you need to keep moving, forward. One day. One day further away. 

Further away from the darkness. But it remains. It’s always there, sleeping somewhat peacefully. 

Ready to pounce when you least expect it. Ready to take over. Take control. Take your mind from you. Take charge.

You fear it. 

You fear yourself. 

You fear them for not understanding.