Analysis of FEAR

I'm a mirage on the baked surface
of this dry pilgrimage,
very near but always ahead apace.

Hoofbeats of horrible horses - distinct, they never materialize,
victimizing by clutching at instinct to demoralize
a sanguine morale
exuding wary faith of perfect royal
from hope, expectations beyond the
lassitude of vicissitudes.

A dew, i am descended heavily
on the doubtful,
dampening, painting lucidly shrouded, crooked portrait of a beautiful, strait but less trodden path where
I am known to be FEAR.