My poetry took a darker twist when I was 17. Hint: It’s not actually about fear. Can you guess what the “it” is? “Fear” 3-17-99 Something stalks and terrorizes me using all its fright, making it hard to sleep at night. I wonder if it’s been there all along, not asking, but making me sing its song? “What do you want?” I ponder. “Oh nothing,” it answers, “I’m only here to wander.” What if it slays me in my sleep, taking away all of the things that are mine to keep? I prepare with all my might to scream, but it calms me as if comforting a child’s bad dream.…