Sow the seeds of fear.

Cyril Wong had said that poets need to be able to delve to the deepest and darkest part of their soul and dare to display it and say this is the depth of my feeling. Those who shun away are mere empty husks who are afraid of feeling.

Indeed, where my heart and voice had failed me
Let my words now speak for me.

I know not why and how this irrational fear grips me again.
It is so primal, so unrelenting as it holds me in its grasp.
This cold hand clutched around my chest. Clenching and clenching.
I cannot... the world collapses around me.
Until all I feel are my flustered heartbeats and that icy ring.

Questions abound, but the answers evade me so.
Now I dare not even mention " "
For fear, that I would fall again into the abyss
Master of me, I once soared with joy, and now I freeze in fear.
No, even that very pronoun conjures madness.

If my words have spoken at all.
Poetry is too obscure and not powerful enough.