My fear wears a mask

I let my fear wear a mask one day
And let it move my temper astray.

Like the crafty amoeba, though one-celled
It filled out, stretched, snowballed, swelled.

Fear can mutate, masquerade
Grow on and on, roam untamed.
And I let it free to change its shape
Prowl my emotional landscape.

“I love you so, this anger is concern.”
But at that decibel, but who can discern?

“I’m just afraid, just need to be held.”
But too proud to say, to make amends

Why would we rather…

Be thought stern than soft?
Short-fused than burnt out?

Why not pregnable and kind?
Than stormy in fear-bind?

So afraid of letting down our guard
That we would rather be scarred?

Would they love us any the less….
Our unnamed fears, if we express?