I fear voids filling my pages,
and no urge to write in my bones.
I fear being afraid of nights and
accompanying dark all alone.
I fear no pain in heart to bleed,
and my pen getting cold and numb.
I fear fake smiles stuck on my lips,
and tears caged in hollow lungs.
I fear promises of forever,
which end up in the grave of rhymes.
I fear screams of love hidden in the
soothing wind chime of lies.
I fear loving people who left me,
in the middle of life, alone the way.
I fear reminiscing their gentle touches,
and then dying for them every day.
I fear shattering of syllables,
and verses dying with autumn leaves.
I fear rains without metaphors and
seasons without brimming poetry.