Dreams scatter like buckshot

From a shotgun

Broken up by the threat

Of nightmares waiting in the wings

Fear begins to rise

Before the tenor can shift

Into that old familiar pitch

Always lingering

Beneath the surface

An instinct for survival

Run into overdrive

All adrenaline bursts

And dilated eyes

Prey always scanning for the predator

In a world that whispers safety

To a mind that cannot hear it – Caroline A. Slee

The Fear Beneath the Surface

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