The guilt you feel for a wrong you never knew.
The fear of hurting another to push them away.
The worry that you will never be what the world expects.
The constant constriction in your chest that squeezes like a vice.
It is a master of infiltration and disguise.
Its target, peace. Its calling card, perception.
Its compatriots: fear and doubt.
Its occasional ally: pride.
Spawned by: love, hate, lust,
And there are times where it cannot be removed, cannot be destroyed. You cannot simply shoot it. One may mask it, but that disguise often makes it stronger.
One may seek to control it. But control does not come easily, and can be an expensive venture.
So what is the antidote? Is there an antidote?
But there are things that help:
These things are there, and they will come.
And we will see what will be.