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Fear in the Subconscious
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Early 20s I met a man named fear
He was standing, feet planted, in the street.
Unassuming upon first glance,
He was small, insignificant and meek.
As I moved closer, his gaze shifted,
Now suddenly he looks to me with no eye contact.
My hands began to shake a bit
And I felt a strong urge to turn and take a step back.
But as someone seemingly courageous,
I kept forward and reached out to touch this man.
My hand fell lightly on his shoulder
And I implored to him “speak to me if you can.”
Impatiently, I waited to hear what he’d say.
I watch as his lips parted, but only a small breath escaped.
I don’t know why, but it shook my core,
And I felt a sharp and shooting pain, as my heart began to break.
My hand still lay upon his shrill shoulder,
And as the pain grew, ice cold tears streamed down my face;
I lowered myself to look him square in the eye,
And I was met looking back at me, standing in his place.
Everything around me stopped; silent and still,
There I stood, me looking at me, not knowing what it meant.
No sooner did she, (or was it I) breathe back in,
Did I watch her (or I) disappear, as if to melt into the pavement.
The noise returned around me,
Leaving me in awe, frozen and very perplexed.
I struggled in the coming moments,
Unable to decide what I should be doing next.
The crowds then turned and raced to me,
And I found myself swimming in a sea of strange shouting faces.
Each soul reached to try and scratch my skin,
My voice, trying to shatter through the crowd, filled the empty spaces.
And then my eyes flashed open,
I found myself twisted in the sheets of my familiar bed;
Realizing this encounter was nothing
But the subconscious floating images in my racing head.
