When they ask me, What is your deepest fear?
When they ask me, "What is your deepest fear?"
I open my mouth, but the words remain trapped,
Never spoken, my silence keeps them wrapped.
How do I say my fear is not a possibility,
But my present reality, an endless echo of fragility?
To admit I'm accustomed, that I've never been enough,
And perhaps I never will be? It's a truth that's tough.
I try my hardest, yet always fail,
I watch others rise like stars that never pale,
While I remain mired in constant pain's frail.
I tell myself to fight, to become more than I've been,
But the truth is, I'm tired of these endless spins,
Remaining in the same zone of shadows and doubts akin.
So I smile, an empty smile, well-rehearsed,
Say something I'm not truly afraid of, a rehearsed verse,
Choosing an easy lie to hide the truth's curse.
I always fail to declare I'm already living my nightmare,
A reality haunting me with each dawn and sunset's glare.
In my mind, a river of thoughts flows without cease,
Searching for courage among memories and shattered peace,
Like leaves carried by the wind of an endless season's lease.
Perhaps somewhere, beyond the horizon of silence,
I will find the answer that grants my deliverance,
But until then, my smile remains a well-kept pretense.
Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2025
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