The Assignment
Itâs simple. Or so they claim. Just feel the fear And call its name.
Let it pass, donât hold too tightâ Donât chase it down, donât start a fight. But here I sit, a crumpled start, The paper blank, but not my heart.
The task is clear, The fearâs well known, But somehow still Iâm not alone.
First is to find the scariest thought the one you avoid the one youâre taught will ruin the world if you let it in so write it down donât blink beginâ
Carve it in words like it's etched in bone A truth you dread, cold, unknown Use detail, lotsâmake it sharp and live So your body reacts like it wonât survive
To feel... the choke to freeze, to fall to smell the moment before it mauls
To hear the snapâthe break, the scream To see it loop, to kill the dream Over and over, deep in the brain Until you can't tell thought from pain
To taste the panic the bile, the breath to swallow the air that tastes like death Until the only thing you know is dread, and fear, and losing control.
Thatâs the process, thatâs the script. Recite the chaos, donât let it slip. Describe your doom, rehearse your fallâ Until it doesnât hurt at all.
But what if saying it makes it stay? What if I give it breath that way? They say this makes the terror fleeâ But what if this becomes all of me?
Is that the truth behind the spin? Is that the trap OCD keeps me in? Or is this workâthe daily pleaâ Exactly what it claims to be?
Just let it come. Just let it be.
