Next Day Phobia! Poem by Milova Matthias

My next day phobia.
Like sweat overwhelms me.
Out of the incessant odor.
It gushingly weeps blood.
From my body pores and hollows.

For the labyrinth of life.
Is of jungles and wolves.
And the perilous shadows of death.

Even if I scale through this.
And I wild in pain with no gain.
Even if I take the cane.
And it turns out in vain.
If I wallow in tears chasing tyres.
Or my back aches from running barrows.
As tomorrow comes non stopping.
To be the future of yesterday.
I am afraid of who I am.
The man Id become.

For as a man tango with fate and destiny.
So also a man tangles with it.
I fear about tomorrow, my destiny.
In the midst of this perilous shadows.
For I can't change it nor escape it.

But if fate hooks me up with a leper.
And destiny makes me a barrow man.
I fear I'd curse god and die.
If fate ask to roll down my sleeves.
Or drink water from my bowl.
If destiny is to live in a fool's paradise.
And my struggle like water in a basket.
Id curse the day I was begotten.

My next day phobia- the jungles.
Which mingles and tingles me badly.
Yet all do not be-wild me as much.
But if I pass through those inferno stages.
And do not make it in life.
For life is the survival of the fittest.
And I am fate phobic.
Everyman is!