It

Sun, 01/21/2018 - 15:50 -- Roll

There, in the darkness,
It lurks.
Passive, harmless, yet somehow,
It's threatening me.

Glancing from the side,
It lunges at me, menacing,
Hands reaching out to grab my neck
And strangle me into submission.

Arms reaching out
To pull me into darkness.
Moving to strike fear,
Show spite,
Blood lust.

It hates me, doesn't it?

That thing staring back at me,
Looking at me,
Staring daggers.

Whether in darkness
Or through clarity,
Why do I fear it?

If it's me...do I fear myself?

Or does myself fear me?

This poem is about: 
Me

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