Little Fears

Little Fears
in a worrisome world

THOUGHTS ABOUT BEING SCARED

by EMMA PARKER

Worrisome Mort was the
worrisome sort,

Oh! what a worry wart was he...

WWhihleilaet afitrfsitrhste’hdes’edesmeefimnef,ine,
if yifoyuoguavgeavitesiotmsoemtime etime

HHe’ed’dbebeshsahkainkginlgikleikleealveeasviensaintraeet!ree!

Was he real blue?
No one quite knew,

But, for all it was plain to see...

That poor Mort, he fretted,
he sweated

His brow, how it wetted!

His underpants too, when in them he’d pee!

Now Mort was the sort,
NowwMitohrtbwraainssthteersroibrlty, warped
with brains terribly warped

With what-ifs and but-ifs and hums-a-ho-ho

With what-ifs and but-ifs and hums-a-ho-ho



What if I’m stupid?

Get left out by cupid?
What if I just don’t know?

What if old spiders
crawl out from inside us?

He’d ask while he looked
down below.

And the days of poor Mort
were all of this sort,
You see, he just needed to know

the what-ifs and
but-ifs,

the what-makes-a-garden-green-grow?



�

��

��

He was well in his heart,
but his brain had a part
that would never just leave him alone

An inward oration
a constant narration
of niggly thoughts to make him groan

�

what if bad scent
my soap can’t prevent?

SNIFF

SNIFF

have I misspent?
he’d forever lament

???

these things of torment
he was prone to invent

?? ?

100°

do i have a disease?
am I covered in fleas?

now I can’t sneaze!
where are my keys?!

As well, Mort would doubt
His own social clout
He’d worry about making a chum

I look like a trout!
A pig with a snout!
His ho-hums would make hims so glum



z zzzzz zz z zzzz z
zz zzzz zz z zz
z zz z
z z z zzz

z z z zzz

z z
z

zz z
zz zzzz z z
zzz zzzzzzz
z And he wondered some more
zz z z If at night he would snore

With a mouth open wide and offending

Come morning, he’d wake,
To familiar ache
Of worries that seemed life suspending

Now there comes a time
in everyone’s rhyme,
when events a-culminate.

Dear Mort is the same,
you see, inside his brain,
a new thought was gathering weight.

It started out weak,
with no voice, just a squeak

It started out meek,
It was barely a creak!

cccrrreeeeeaak.....

His what ifs were changing,
his thoughts rearranging.
His but ifs were changing their tune.

Subsiding were stricken
what ifs that sickem

And ho-hums that made him boo-hoo

HHUUMM

What if today my eyes don’t decay?

And all of the goblins stay out of the way?

What if I’m safe from a blood-thirsty wraith?
And snug from the harm of a ravenous waif?



What if inside is
strength
courage &
pride?

Is that what i need for my fears to subside?



Mort went cross-eyed
as new what-ifs applied
to the what-ifs he was used to

And inside it grew,
his heart fluttered, iit flew

A switch had flipped,
he was sure that he knew!



Little fears are frightening,,
they’re harsh & chest tightening

They niggle & nag,
Heck! They can practically gag

But here’s something exciting,
little fears are worth fighting!

Mort found it delighting
to be uninviting

to what ifs and but ifs and hums a ho ho.

Yes Mort found this out and he wants you to know!

THE END