Fears; End Of My days

I have fears
Which are so strong
They might be downright wrong

Of these fears there is one
That is not, on any scale, any fun
It makes me turn and run.

When I run, I can’t look back
If I do, all I see is black
It is like a smack in the face
When I run this fearing race

I stop right quick and sit right down
And as I do I feel every pound
I lace my fingers across my face
As I sit there in my tearing place

I feel the wind on my skin
I glance down and see I am thin
Crying even harder now, my fears reality
I realize I feel the unmentionable sensuality

These are the last of my days
As I sit and look and gaze
I have become trapped in this maze

I slowly roll limp and lifeless
Over and strike a tree
And there I lay, for the rest of time
There I be