Fear

What instrument of fear larks? What loss or pain? What grunting black fancy yells? You look into that hailstorm, And feel, you are wounded with lumps of ice-piece Stuck in your throat. You feel, you are swallowing as if you were As helpless as a snake, Taking a food, heavier then it can afford. Digestion leaves you no choice -- You need a powerful stomach. Fear the food you take, Fear the blank pain lives in you. Fear, none but yourself That, at the end, haunts your shadow.