I feel as though I've been diying for four years
That I'm being digested in the belly of my fears
A feeling that drives itself to my core
That every triumph was but a dream, nothing more
I work endless hours just to ignore
Yet in sleepless nights I face this nightmare and all it has in store
For me fear is nothing more than a feeling
A thing like time ever fleeting
And even when I panic and trimble and rock back and forth to my heart's beating
I fall into another tomorrow
I smile in it's greeting

Falling seems apt for this sensation
The future some unknown creature behind me sneering in titillatilation
As the past, like the ledge moves to memory for idle...