One answer

That tiny figure,
With her tiny fingers,
Resting on her milk teeth,
Those teeth separated by intruding brown lines,
Another hand clutching her clothes,
Her clothes which told me tales,
Tales of her play,
Tales of her scuffles with her playmates,
That shrivelled hair,
That never had the lustre mine has,
Yesterday's milk that dried on her chin,
Leaving the shape of a yet undiscovered country,
That layer of fine dust,
That was her makeshift talcum,
The insecurity that she seemed to exude,
As she stared at me through those large inquisitive eyes,
Unmindful of her sister, her miniature,
Whose hands were evidently awaiting a coin from me.
Do I call it luck,
Do I call it destiny,
Do I call it facticity,
That she happened to be the one she is,
And I the one I am?
There's just one answer,
An undeniable one.
The greed of the avaricious few.

When it died

There was a fear,
Fear that never showed,
Fear that manipulated my actions,
Fear that animated my emotions,
Fear that comforted me,
Fear that flourished on hope,
Hope that my fears wouldn't come true,
A cruel cycle that wouldn't spare me.

There was a fear,
Fear that blurred boundaries,
Boundaries between pleasure and pain,
Between the right and the wrong,
Fear that withdrew me,
Into a world of its own.
Fear that concealed the truth,
The lies, the doubts, the joy,
Fear that impersonated,
That spineless creature called me.

The fear of your walking away,
Your footsteps resounding brutally,
Killing the fear -my sole clandestine ally.

The fear died,
When you walked away.
What died in me,
I will never know.
There is a fear,
Of your breathing life into what just died.