Fear, my muse.

Fear, my muse, you evil thing.

Crawling into my comfort, changing everything.

 

Fight or flight- while rational actions subside.

Seeping in, before a bright and sunny day will arise.

 

Oh damn you fear;  all the discomfort and uncertainty you bring.

Yet is it the fight the fear or fly forward with the ever-changing wind?

 

Oh miserable muse, how I wish to hate you.

But you are the force. The push. The cataclysmic move.

 

So fight, then flight. Saying goodbye to my lovely, not-yet-worn and comfortable ways.

Traded in for change. That promise of ever-new, ever-enriching days.

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