In shadows deep where whispers creep,
The molds of fear begin to seep.
They twist and turn, in silent form,
A quiet storm, a shapeless swarm.

Their roots take hold in fragile ground,
Where doubt and sorrow intertwine, unbound.
A fleeting thought, a midnight chill,
They linger still, against our will.

Yet light can break the darkest chain,
Through courage born of hope’s refrain.
For fears, though vast, are but a guise,
Dispelled by truth and steady eyes.

So face the molds, the shadows near,
And watch them fade—dissolved by clear.

~Corina