Fear is a four letter word.
It tears and it grabs and it grips at my throat,
and when I cower, it stands up to gloat.
I've sat on the sidelines too long, yes I have,
while others jump hurdles and win on demand.
It takes naught to keep me still and subdued,
just enough menace, a handful of boo's,
and I'm hunching and yielding to folks right and left;
I wonder, what will it take to display weight and heft?
Others have noticed how timid I am,
but none more than me...
O, that fear would disband!
What must I do to dislodge and unglue
this hesitant fright that saps my delight,
and leaves me to feel like a flea caught in flight
detained and contained by a lid on so tight?
There must be an end,
a daring voila` to this story that's been
since the time of papa`.
Some edge I can use to attack and destroy
timidity's subtle and poisonous ploy.
But alas I fear (there's that word again)
that all I can do is dance and pretend
I'm not quite so scared as I seem to be,
and hope no one is looking directly at me.
But don't you think it would be sad
if all I did was play dead for dad?
After all, it's not happening still --
for the past sorrow adds up to nil.
All the sadness and pain that flooded like rain,
and made me so hurt and so damned insane,
now still like a carving of marble and stone
I salute time to time with barely a groan.
And so the solution lies in my hands,
and not in the memory of some mean man.
I've come full circle now, not quite so sad,
fear's on it's way out and baby, I'm glad.