The Hoard

Fear is just a feeling, but still crippling to the soul
It fans into a raging fire from just one tiny coal
It doesn’t need to make much sense; it is it’s own reward
Growing from a nothingness into a screaming hoard
That come to do me battle, I’ve no will left to fight
The world around me crumbles and leaves me to my plight
Wave after wave they come at me, those feelings in my heart
My arms are frozen to my sides; can’t win what I can’t start
That coal is now forgotten, it’s just the need to live
And how can I survive it; I’ve got no more to give?
But fear is just a feeling and they are mine to hold
And so I’ll keep a hold on it; a very Mindful hold.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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