Scared. A word that describes much of what I’ve been feeling lately.

I’m scared to believe in a God I can’t see.
And scared not to believe.

I’m scared of being stuck.
And scared to move forward.

I’m scared of the past that haunts me.
And scared of the future that might be.

I’m scared to love.
And scared to put up walls that may fall.

I’m scared to let anyone in.
And scared of being alone.

I’m scared of getting drunk.
And scared to stay sober.

I’m scared of failing.
And scared of trying just in case I fail.

I’m scared to attempt to change.
And scared of staying the same.

I’m scared of dying.
And scared of living.

I’m scared that this all seems like an endless mind game that leads nowhere.
And scared that it really doesn’t matter anyway.



About becmom45

Wife of one, mom of four, mom-in-law to two, grammy to one precious little boy; lover of snow, autumn, pumpkins, cats, books, baking, Charles Wysocki puzzles, Christmas; honest, raw author who hopes what is written here enlightens and educates those fortunate enough to not understand the demons chronicled.
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