Fear bites like a mosquito
and gives an itch to my right brain.
“I’ll live to be a hundred – no?”
Mortality is my name.
Every ache I ponder deep:
“Is this the beginning of the end?”
I find it difficult to sleep;
When will darkness be my friend?
Sing like a mosquito’s hum
When it buzzes near my ear;
That’s the melody of anxiety,
What I hear when I sense fear.