Frightened

A shudder comes.
A shadow on my will.
But I'm too composed.
Bumps on the road
and turned down smiles,
tell otherwise.
More food settles
in my already full stomach.
But I can't stomach it.
Not really.
More I tolerate the gremlin,
than accept defeat.
It's still there
in the corner.
Not telling me,
taunting me,
and I can't lay the blame
to rest.
For the fault is not in question.
Yet morality is eating it up,
and tonight
it's ravenous.
Pity pleads for it,
but its restless being
will scorn all justice.