I can feel it all around me,
Circling and on the prowl.
That never fleeting sense of anxiety,
Craving the taste of total mind control.
Seems as if I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall
Right down on top of us all.
It's like the busting open of the floodgates,
Unleashing that all too familiar dread,
The kind which makes the sea turn red.
Forced now to face an excruciating fate.
If only I didn't feel like this,
I could make it stop.
Then, I wouldn't always get torn apart
By the beast which dwells inside this pessimist.
Please allow me to help explain,
Exactly as to who it is that I am.
I go by many names,
Namely four.
They call me Death, Famine, Disease, and War...
I am that dark thing that haunts your daydreams;
That uncertainty for...