To craven to brave

If there is one thing I have said a hundred times before
it must be this mantra that most find obscure:

I am not afraid of dying.
I’m petrified of living.

Such existence generates violence- the truest battle of will.
And mine, its simply to craven to brave.
It’s my heart really- spineless and small, that fears fracture and renders it bare.

I watched her face dance with images from the colored screen.
And I ached with such magnitude that my lungs could hardly hold air.
Would it not be far easier to give up the fight than to suffer the anguish of loss?
I dance an intricate dance round the thought of her betrayal
And my dreams solidify that terror each night
Each moment
I sleep without any reprieve.

I wish not to succeed but draw back
And wave this fair flag
Before fear meets triumphant’s suffocation.