Fear is in the eye of the beholder.
It creeps up behind like a shadow,
Forcing the instinct to run
Directly beneath the sun, to hide.
However impossible that may seem.
Teeming with adrenaline, we panic-

Trapped by our own fears we panic,
Unable to face and behold her
Controlled by her forever it seems,
As she lurks unawares, in the shadows.
Eyes cover themselves with lids and hide
Causing skin to suppress the urge to run

If the choice is constantly to turn and run
It will always result in an uncontrolled panic
She finds us no matter how well we hide
Tapping aggressively at the beholder
Of her essence, who insists to blend with the shadows.
She fills the heart until it bursts at the seams,

Exploding in the chest cavity while she seems
To laugh, meanwhile alluding us as if to run
Like ghosts lurking in the black of the shadows
Inevitably causing the instant panic
Attack of those that seek to behold her
Attempting to avoid the urge to hide

Like a lion chasing the raw-hide
Starving at the back of the heels, she seems
To be constantly following her beholder
As each foot slams against the pavement to run
Away from her efforts to increase heart panic
The beating ominous cloudless shadow

Darkness emerges to slap from beneath the shadow
When instinctively the face turns to hide,
But elusively what grows is a boiling panic
Overflowing our pot with heat which seems
To place fire at the feet, forcing one to run
All the while avoiding her pleas to behold her.

At night the shadows collect in the seams
Of the room, hiding with craftiness and running
In what appears like a panic towards the I, the beholder.