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Sonnet 3

Irrationality is not my fear.
I cannot worry for my state of mind.
No proof is necessary for a clear
Decision to be reached. But every kind
And gentle instinct begs of me to wait.
In breathless hush when panic stills my feet
Ignoring eyes on fire as tears abate
And blinking even stops. Afraid to greet
Inaction, and yet too afraid to act,
I know what I must do and yet I pause
To spite the trust that I have never lacked
In intellect. I've made internal laws
Of conservation of my mental state
By anchoring inertia to my fate.