Some have a fear of the darkness

That spreads its cloak when approaches the night,

Or sits in a room devoid of light.

There’s the fear of being lost in a crowd;

The fear of thunder, or the one of heights,

Or the fear of blood and gruesome sights.

Yet the ugliest of all fears

Is that of being contradicted,

Of being opposed and convicted;

And so they fearfully curtail their speech

And cease their typing, the pens they withdraw

Till no one dares to point out our flaws.