A riddle of a symptom

Its hidden

while it shows

Its expressed

when noone knows

 

You can smell it

But its not a scent

It is not hard

But it can not be bent

 

My little riddle

Means nothing to you

The answer can not

be given by a clue

 

The answer to my riddle

Is fear itself

Alough its a thing

it cannot be put on a shelf

 

You can see it in their eyes

And hear it in their voice

Some may hide it badly

And some hide it with poise

 

Some express it with rage

And some with tears

All of this

Is included into fear

 

 

Reviews

[Darkness Lurking]

I really enjoyed this riddle! Well, riddle-poem. Anyhow, it was very confusing and made me think, which I loved about it! Personally, that's exactly what a poem should do: Make you think, use your mind, and not just give you the point straight out. Of course, you poked it in there a few times, but it was placed in the perfect spot as to not give too much away.
Amazing!
-Morgan