What is the shape of that you fear?
Causing you to shudder when near.
It would seem easy to say something large,
a kind of beast with a mad and wild charge.
Yet it seems so dishonest and unjustified,
to brand a monster to save ones pride.
The truth for me is clear,
the fact I fear is a tear.
On me, the soldier you may demand,
an explanation for such a stand.
A sword, gun or bomb all have one thing they share,
A fixed, locked or clear potential, easy to ensnare
That is the horror of despair,
the constant threat to flare.
You may be strong that I concede,
But is it enough for this deed?
To lift a weight so immense,
even mountains take offence?
For that is the trick you may not see,
The weight of a tear can crush even me.
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