A more mature approach to my fear, a redo of my past poem FEARS that was made four years ago.

I’m sat on top the counter

Idly drumming my fingers to a beat

Its half past twelve

I should have been in bed

If I had I would have been spared a night of terror

Its starts off as a casual rumble

I remain an outward appearance of cool

Though inside my fear is stirring

My eyes grow wide as another crash is heard

It’s a childish fear

I shouldn’t let it get to me

A rumble in the distance is heard

The television beeps

A thunderstorm warning

I hate myself for being so weak

The thunder gets loud

A yelp emits from my throat

I dash into my bed

My head under my pillow

Every second there’s a noise

Followed by a flash

Soon after

It’s a phobia, they say

It’ll pass

They think it has

It doesn’t bother me as much

But I still lay awake a night

Huddled in the midst of blankets

Hoping someone would see my fear.