cowards

I have come to the conclusion that my fears are big sissy arsed cowards. Why you may ask, well because they won't show themselves during the day. No, they wait for the wee hours of the night when all is quite and dark, when you are curled up in a ball snuggled under blankets snoring softly and then they pounce. They approach, a gang of pubescent teens, chains dancing in their hands, taunts playing loudly on their lips. Their voices caress your soul whispering fears, at first slowly, deliberately and then faster until you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of dread. You toss and turn on the verge of wakefulness living every possible worse case scenario until your body overwrought with tension can’t take it anymore and you find yourself sitting bolt upright in bed, sleep a lover left behind. They are cowards my fears, taunting my like they do in the wee hours of the morn. I dare them to deride me during the day I’ll show them who is who.