Each breath new and unsure,
Scattered pine needles in snow,
Not sure how to feel,
My constants ripped from my fingertips.
Like ropes holding me steady over this endless cliff,
One snaps, closer I fall,
To the hungry darkness beneath.
Broken traditions and scattered rules,
Stability loses it's focus,
As each second races past.
I claim to hate routine,
Yet I feel unsteady when it breaks.
My room, a solitude,
Sheilding me from the world,
Giving me the label of antisocial,
While I'm simply trying to seek comfort in the shadow.
I'm scared.
Of what, you ask?
Winning, failing.
People, loneliness.
Love, hate.
These simple opposites.
Why, you say?
I don't want to get swept away.
So I hold on, until someone pries me loose,
Or snatches it away.
I need music to constantly fill my ears,
Calming me and blocking out reality,
Each note a soldier against the world.
But what fear ever truly dies?
None, I say.
Why don't you talk?
Too dangerous, I whisper.
Risks to far up,
I don't want to need help.
I want to be independent,
But alone I drown.
Floundering in fear.