Controlled in a time of violence.

Measured in the face of fear.

But ask me a subjective question 

“Has all the kitchen been cleared?”

I crumble with anxiety,

As my confidence begins to disappear.

Fearless warrior.

Frantic worrier.

Calm at the end of a bow spit.

Untroubled by an angry sea.

But show me a picture thats wonky, 

And it’s a downward spiral on the settee that soon appears.

Fearless warrior.

Frantic worrier.

Confident while speaking.

He Always Fills an awkward silence and takes the centre stage.

But Can’t close a cupboard door,

In case he accidentally slams it in a silent rage.

30 years on and he’s yet to solve this inner puzzle,

Still passes it off as just a phase.

Fearless warrior.

Frantic worrier.

Concise in his responses.

Focussed in his actions, 

ignoring his apparent fears.

However he’s Empty on the inside

And his lack of understanding,

Well that fills the perceived and gaping void

Not with answers,

but With tears.

Fearless warrior.

Frantic worrier.

Charges forward Bare chested.

Fills his lungs.

Goes on the attack .

No looking back.

Actually his pure anxiety has complete control.

Paralysed inside,

He clings to life.

Fingers ache from holding on too tight.

Tries not to look back.

Stumbles out into the night.

Fearless warrior.

frantic worrier.