I was not afraid of fear.
I jumped from high walls, urged on with excitement.
I ran through fields, could I outrun the bull?
I watched scary movies, enjoying the darkness.
I was a child.
I cannot go outside, for it is out there.
Unseen, weaving in and out,
soiling, leaving its print.
I now fear, fear itself.
I am an adult.
Mary Bradford is an Irish published author and enjoys writing, reading and crafting. Find out more here.