I’m scared of the quiet — it cuts like glass, Every thought’s a ghost from my shattered past, Words I never said still echo in halls, Of the house I built just to watch it fall. I’m scared of peace — it feels like deceit, Like calm waves hiding sharks beneath, Every time I smile, it trembles slight, ‘Cause even joy feels staged under light. I’m scared of the silence — it speaks in code, Every thought’s a riddle my soul wrote in Morse, Fear ain’t loud, it just hums in remorse, And every calm breath feels forced, of course. I’m scared of mirrors — they know too much, They see the truth that my tongue won’t touch, They’ve watched me cry with a laugh in disguise, Watched me pray to ghosts that never replied. I’m scared of peace — it feels like a trick, Like the calm right before the panic hits quick, Like love that says “forever” but leaves in the rain, And signs its name in permanent pain. I’m scared of sleep — I dream in grayscale, Even heaven looks sick when your faith goes stale, I count my scars like sheep at night, And every blink’s just another fight. I’m scared of success — I’ve seen it rot, Turn best friends into hands I forgot, Turn pure souls into dollar signs, And leave “real ones” lost in time. I’m scared of truth — it cuts too clean, Rips the mask off everything I’ve been, Sometimes lies feel like safe routines, And comfort’s the cage that keeps you serene. I’m scared of God — not ‘cause I doubt, But ‘cause I know He sees me inside-out, And I don’t know if He loves this mess, Or just studies me under the stress. I’m scared of love — it’s a thief in silk, Sips your trust like it’s mother’s milk, And when it’s gone, it leaves your chest, Hollow as a home that forgot the guest. I’m scared of my own reflection’s stare, He smiles like he knows I’m unaware, Like he’s counting every lie I told And waiting to cash the debt I owe. I’m scared of numb — ‘cause it’s quiet death, You don’t cry, you just forget your breath, And people clap for the mask you wear, Never knowing there’s nothing there. I’m scared of time — it don’t heal, it hides, Puts band-aids on the truth inside, Years go by but the wound still bleeds, Just learned to rhyme instead of plead. I’m scared of healing — ‘cause that means change, Means letting go of the old exchange, And I don’t know who I’d be without The pain I built my name around. I’m scared of hope — it teases the blind, Dangles the light just to warp your mind, It’s a pretty word with a sharp end twist, A promise dressed in what you miss. I’m scared of living like I’m already gone, Of feeling too right when I know it’s wrong, I’ve been running from peace since I found my pain, ‘Cause chaos feels like my last real chain. I’m scared of nothing — but that’s the curse, When you feel too much, it starts to reverse, And I’d rather hurt than not feel at all, At least pain proves that I still fall. I’m scared of healing — ‘cause it takes the fight, And I’ve learned to live off endless nights, But if fear’s the dark that shapes the dawn, Then maybe being scared means I move on.
