Afraid

If I stop writing, will it all just go away? How can I see the truth behind my own eyes? When I am struggling to find the truth on the paper in front of me? If I stop writing will it all just go away? Dust scatters across the blank paper, Fable attempt to create a plot beyond understanding. I fight the truth of who I am and later I sit and wonder why I can't find my way. Forever fighting conformity, and yet I to conform. In the end I still struggle to see where the begins and I end. I search for myself in the write, and light; I am not there. I am hiding in the shadows forever searching for myself. There in the dark I can finally see the truth the light hides from me; That I am scared, Afraid of who I might be.