I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of the beetle that<\/p>\n f<\/p>\n a<\/p>\n l<\/p>\n l<\/p>\n s<\/p>\n from the windowsill<\/p>\n writhing spindly legs<\/p>\n on its broken back<\/p>\n on hardwood floors.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of responsibilities and<\/p>\n EXPECTATIONS<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n and college<\/p>\n and overdue taxes<\/p>\n that grow on kitchen counters.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of porcelain dolls<\/p>\n with lace sleeves<\/p>\n and glassy eyes<\/p>\n and lips that smile red.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of losing feeling<\/p>\n first in my fingertips,<\/p>\n and then,<\/p>\n my palms,<\/p>\n but<\/p>\n mostly<\/p>\n emotionally.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of the bundle of clothes on my chair<\/p>\n that looks like a man<\/p>\n as I lay swaddled in covers<\/p>\n drawn up to my nose<\/p>\n late at night.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of little holes,<\/p>\n lotus seeds.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of the bursting oil<\/p>\n on the pan that scalds<\/p>\n my skin.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of uncertainty<\/p>\n and nothing <\/em><\/p>\n being the meaning<\/p>\n of everything.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of confrontation,<\/p>\n fake friends,<\/p>\n becoming too close,<\/p>\n b etrayal.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of swallowing fish bones that hide<\/p>\n in fleshy white meat<\/p>\n and scratch my throat,<\/p>\n the same feeling I get sometimes,<\/p>\n when I volunteer to speak.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong>of people<\/p>\n that don\u2019t listen to the word<\/p>\n \u201cno\u201d <\/span><\/strong>\u201cno\u201d. <\/em><\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of not liking what I see in the mirror<\/p>\n and wanting nothing more<\/p>\n than to be someone else.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of graphite pencils<\/p>\n breaking paper skin.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of children with snotty noses<\/p>\n and chocolate cheeks<\/p>\n and fidgeting fingers.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of a bouncy rubber ball<\/p>\n hitting me in the eye.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of white men in ill fitting suits<\/p>\n that argue and debate on TV,<\/p>\n but a little more so,<\/p>\n the white men that nod as they watch them.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of the encroaching darkness that closes in<\/p>\n once in a while,<\/p>\n when my brain tells me to forget<\/p>\n how to<\/p>\n breathe<\/u><\/em><\/p>\n and I lean over the bedpost<\/p>\n heaving,<\/p>\n eyes closed,<\/p>\n heaving.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of writing this poem,<\/p>\n what the words might sound aloud,<\/p>\n mean to other people.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of being lonely,<\/p>\n invisible,<\/p>\n meaning nothing more<\/p>\n than a speck of dust<\/p>\n that dared once to breathe the air of the Earth<\/p>\n and walk on two feet.<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/strong><\/p>\n of something<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/em>to admit.<\/p>\n Sometimes,<\/p>\n I\u2019m afraid <\/em>of myself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Madison Xu I\u2019m afraid of the beetle that f a l l s from the windowsill writhing spindly legs on its broken back on hardwood floors. I\u2019m afraid of responsibilities and EXPECTATIONS and college and overdue taxes that grow on kitchen counters. I\u2019m afraid of porcelain dolls with lace sleeves and glassy eyes and lips… <\/p>\n