I wrote this poem last night/this morning about accepting fear. I feel weird sharing it with people, because it feels like I’m asking for some kind of pat on the back or something, but at the same time I like the metaphor and kind of want to share it with someone because it’s like, “Look at this cool thing!” Side note: How do you guys manage the weirdness of making art and wanting to show it to people but also feeling like people will assume you’re fishing for compliments? It feels easier with visual art that something like poetry, too. Anyways, yeah, ta da or whatever!

Fear is your obstinate little brother -
it follows you to the playground and you see it trailing behind
You bellow, “YOU CAN’T PLAY WITH US!
You ruin everything!
Go home!”
It smirks with mischief.
“I’m never leaving and you can’t make me!”
and it hides behind the slide,
taunting you and throwing spitballs.
you and your friends are playing tag and you’re It
and every time you run by, Fear trips you
so you never catch anyone.
Fear is a jerk like that.
It makes you so angry you want to stomp your feet and scream!

What if you tried a new tactic?
“It’s okay, Fear,”
you croon, in tones usually reserved for stray cats and squalling babies -
“I’m sorry I was mean to you! You can stay as long as you like.”
Now, when it throws its wads of soggy paper
you offer a smile.
You understand Fear now -
Fear just wants to be accepted too.
And you catch the wads and set them
near the swings
cradling them like raw eggs.

Fear doesn’t know what to do.
Niceness makes it...
like the Wicked Witch of the West in water.
So it skulks away,
looking for a new big sibling to torment
and leaving you in the sunlight
finally free of spitballs.


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