A Fearful Path of ABCs

For some strange reason, here, when I try to write

An ubiquitous amount of fear of what may happen, comes to sight

Errors, many of which I've fearlessly made elsewhere

Terrors, they become, stitched to my nerves like hell's stare

"Why?" is a question I haven't quite asked enough on this topic

Shy, is my nesting, on such thoughtful freedom in such a tropic

As a stream of thoughts purposely meant to be formed some way

When elsewhere, I know, that, in this chained form, they don't have to stay

Yet I am lingering on such a brainwave now

Thoughtlessly fingering through these bookshelves of why and how

Hoping, perhaps not, to find a mere answer

But to force my machine through a small bit of cancer

To bring it to strength by showing how weak

That it can be when such doubt starts to peak

Which, to my knowledge, can only be followed

By a negative slope, a feeling of being hollowed

In a hopeful light, hollowed from evil

In the darkest night, followed by such

Of this, I can only say so much....

The end is only as near as it is to you when you fear it.