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Certainly not the best moment
In a rather intimidating place
It’s a bit too early
To deal with everyone

The moments keep turning and each moment grows closer
Not soon enough
No not at all
To bring you back home.

Time to face this terror
You must wait around
For you can barely sit down
With the many crowds

So comes the anxiety
When nothing comes
From the waiting
At least try and find a seat

Not even a book
Not a thing at all to pass the time
Except the high pitched voices
Of a Saturday morning children’s cartoon

You don’t want to listen
To those high pitched voices
Offering unintentionally
Some form of kindness, some sort of warmth

Those voices of entertainment
Fail at their job
With this fearful mind how can you possibly expect anything
To provide a form of distraction and let the time go by?

But do you really want
The time to come
For something within
Creating a fear, a fear so strong of inevitability.

Worry growing steadily
As each moment passes by
Getting so much worse
Worry is something of the current reality

Making strength and fighting
Such impossibility
And then comes uncertainty
And every single doubt

Is this the coward’s moment
Is this a definition of such a thing?
Do we really know for certain
When fear is being faced?

This is a losing battle
For fear is the overwhelming power
Taking over
Creating anticipation as thought

Can we truly be proud
When it is all so inevitable
That in this case
Fear has won?

Someone once said
To not let fear overwhelm
To not let it interfere ever
With necessity

But is this irrational
When all so impossible
To even begin
To overcome?
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