Fear that burrows into my veins, into my muscles, into my heart. Fear that runs my body like machiery, keeping it alive, keeping it real. The scaring, the new and old, they rust out my body, make it look old. Pain that eats me, and the faer it burrows, I only look on, to face it each day. Another day, another worry, another thing to bury.

This is my monster, my fear. Shall it eat me alive? Or shall I slay it? Not even I know.