F is for Fear

And it's not the cute kind of fear,

not the kind with butterflies and giggles.

It's the tyoe that puts a lump in your throat,

throws a rock in the pit of your stomach.

It's the type that wakes you up at 3:27 AM

And makes you so anxious you can't stop crying

And you start breathing fast and shallow

And the lights start spinning

And your arms get so heavy they won't move

It's the type of fear that makes you question:

is this anxiety or a bad acid trip?

But you've never done acide in your life

and you can't stop crying and hyperventalating

This poem is about: 
Me

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