Fog
When you keep everything bottled inside, fog starts to form
The fog is made of fear and the fear starts to wrap around you
It is that’s set so thick in front of you that you don’t see that finally loving someone with your whole being builds you up instead of tears you down.
It enters your lungs and violates your body, making foreign become familiar.
Don’t accept fog with open arms and an open smile because fog looks friendly when you’ve made it yourself.
You become incapacitated, broken down by a fog of fear in which you have found comfort
Fear keeps you safe
Fear doesn’t try.
Fear stops you so you don’t run then
stopped by the wall that calls a young girl with hope in her eyes.
You start to release the fear through words in your poem and you've never felt so free.
You trap it in metaphors and personification and you learn after letting go of fear, there’s no turning back
You start trying with the knowledge you might fail and your skin becomes the wind needed to knock down the walls in your path
and the fog in front of you doesn’t matter because you are fog but you’re also wind and rain and thunder and lightning.
You are the storm
Now raise hell