it is not that
i mind
what i fear
is the account
that may count
behind my back
when i rest
my head
not softly
it is not that
i care, or not
care
but i fear
i must need
my breath
albeit i know
you are not dear
i must be good
because i fear
not knowing, yet unsure
how face of grave
might be
these hard heart
burning between my chest
tell me 'am wrong
and my brow
must i keep on my tow
i believe God will
let me grow