They hide beneath white sheets a sparrows voice inspires his every thought shes glad to see the sun, that once was so timid his eyes light with endearment as he watches her twirl he lays beneath a tree that calms, tension was his only fault her naive mind, ignores his stare of admiration.
As you ran across an active highway, you scream "fuck your fear". A worried friend chases after you, and yells about your drunken antics. Fear is what keeps us from death but also keeps us from feeling alive. Strange how sometimes the only way to feel alive is to come close to death, to know its that simple, one car, one fall, and your gone.