Like a frightened child

Like a frightened child. Is that bad?
Writing SOS messages. Asking for help. Smelling fear. Alone. Looking for shelter. An embrace. A “don’t be silly, Don’t you worry. Tomorrow you’ll laugh at everything”.
The bed doesn’t comfort me, spinning. Looking for a way out. Sleep doesn’t come.
It’s not easy being fragile.
Be a man. Don’t be pathetic. Don’t be a coward. Pick yourself up. Face it. Have the guts. Confront it.

Crying like a child. Is that bad?
Hate wants to scare. Egotism wishes pain. Menace suffocates.
And a voice shouts: “Calm, worst things have you passed through. Look at it from above. Smile. Everything is forgotten.”

A woman’s bosom would do me well. A strong hug. A mother’s smell.
And make love and forget everything. And melt with the sky. Leaving the inferno. Feeling the blue of the sea. The red of the burning wood. The green of the fresh grass. All colours are excited, and kind at the same time. Breathing the passion of rebirth. Imbibing life. Feeling the pleasure.

I will drink hot milk to relax my spirit. I will sleep in peace. If something happens, it happens. That is for others to decide. I alone can’t control it. I alone. I will escape behind my sleep. My subconscious will make me rest.
I will defend myself the best I can. I will hide if it is necessary.
Like a frightened child. Who said it is bad to run?