Scared to Fly

by Miss T

used to live in whispered tones,

Afraid to stand, to be alone.

I bit my tongue and played it small,

Scared of flying, more scared to fall.

I stayed where comfort wore me thin,

Let others write the lines I’m in.

I smiled through storms I didn’t choose, Afraid to speak, afraid to lose.

But something stirred—soft, not loud,

A spark beneath the fear and cloud.

A voice that said, “You’ve hurt enough

You’re not too weak. You’re simply tough.

“So now I walk, though still unsure,

With trembling hands, but steps that cure.

I feel the fear, but I don’t freeze

I hold the pen. I hold the keys.

No more waiting to be picked,

No more stories that conflict.

I write the truth, both fierce and kind

No chains, no scripts, no ties that bind.

I may not roar, but I won’t hide.

There’s power walking scared with pride. Still afraid?

Yes. But not confined.

I walk alone—and that’s by design.