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Who doesn’t know the dread of sudden falls
Of, waking up in sweat--brought back to life?
Or sense that something lurks behind the walls,
Which strikes our heart, so like a subtle knife.
When do we not lend meaning to each sound
And step that leads us further in the dark?
In such a way to cause our blood to pound,
And leave upon our souls a vicious mark
Although, live terrors pass us by each day,
Far worse than real are terrors of the mind
With images and whispers, thoughts will play
Of things beyond your reach or things that bind.
It’s strange that with so much in life to fear,The worst terrors of all are twice as near.
Sonnets seem to often be about concepts that the writer is trying to come to terms with, such as love or growing old. Thus, I wrote on fear, noting how what we fear most is what is left to our imagination. I'm not sure, however, if it has enough imagery and flows or if the volta works.