I am screaming and I am scared.
Perhaps a frightening entity in front of me
beckons me to somewhere unknown.
Perhaps an old foe startled me,
and I jumped as my heart skipped a beat.
Perhaps I am screaming because there are people behind me,
cloaked in black, marching towards me at an all too-fast pace.
Perhaps I am terrified of the river beneath me,
afraid that the bridge will not hold much weight.
Perhaps whatever scared me made my stomach churn,
much like the deep, dark water behind me.
Perhaps my face turns aghast as the sun sets,
and I do not like the dark.
Perhaps I panicked at something seeming insignificant then,
although a terrible realization washed over me as the day wore on.
But perhaps I am not afraid, or anxious or fearful.
Perhaps I am not screaming at all.