My Fight
This is the way you made me
Made me the one so scary
Afraid of what is to come
Relieved it soon will be done.
It will be death by anticipation
Running wild my imagination.
Outwardly, something, nothing can touch
Inside stress becomes too much
To be held in by any breath
As things come to a head.
Ending with another easy loss
I casually turn away and walk
Comforted I can always appear
I have nothing that I fear
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