Future (Poem)

The future is my secret closet monster,
Claws slowly dragging me to its doors
Yet its not the nightmare which I fear,
But the possibility I'll find nothing more.

We're searching, trying, feeling, dying,
Our dreams suffocated by intentions well-meaning,
I'm lost, blind and cut adrift,
Burdened by love overprotective.

Standing at the tip of the edge,
With shaking hands held tight.
Into the frightening unknowable unknown,
Falling, I drop out of sight.