Tenterhooks

The rain ceased.

Yet, my turbulence
did not ease.

The knowledge:

sights and sounds of rumours,

truth with lies interwoven.

Fear that it might be fiction

and fear that it might not be.

Shall I...

or shall I not?

Must I,

may I not?

Dare I-

No, I dare not.

An innate insecurity shall the whispered tale

find the much needed room

to grow. And grow.

-adapted from a poem written in 2005.

Suddenly thought of this poem written long ago. No idea why though. Just feeling morose, probably.