How to talk about the fear that strips you of your voice?
The fear that chokes your every step and takes away your choice

Of how to act, and what to say, and dominates your mind,
That wears you down and makes your breath a feeble hopeless grind

Against the stone of unrelenting pressure that you face
That promises no rest nor sleep nor single moment’s grace.

The fear that keeps you up at night, but doesn’t fade away
When finally the morning comes and gifts another day 

Of facing down that hungry beast that feasts upon your dreams,
And gains a wicked evil joy from basking in your screams.

So what to do, you ask yourself, when poised atop the ledge,
Now reaching out to grasp the air while staring down the edge

Of all the fear which raised you up, so high above the clouds,
But now with no way out in sight you dare not say aloud;

What words could possibly describe the terror such a thought,
Instills in you when there you lie within its’ tendrils caught?

What path is left for you to take to get back down again,
Now that you realise your choice has changed from if to when.

What can be done in such a time when hope has given out?
And all that’s left before you is the mountain of your doubts.

That stretches even higher still and casts you in it’s shade;
A monument to all your flaws and errors that you’ve made.

The path before you darkens and your body’s now controlled
When in the iron-fisted grip of fear which takes ahold

Of every sense and every thought in every second past,
Not leaving any space or time for meagre peace to last. 

So how to speak about the fear that takes away so much?
Or how to come back down again and feel the soothing touch

Of restful nights unbroken by the monster in your head,
The monster you now wish would only be under the bed. 

I do not know the way ahead or what it has in store.
I only know I cannot stand the fear I feel much more.