Nothing Scares Me

Nothing really scares me.
Death will come when it may.
Depression is always around the corner.
Financial ills are a part of daily life.
Taxes, family, money, health - everything eventually balances out.

Everything just tumbles around my conscious mind.
World politics, natural disasters, all blur into one.
And I simply sigh and think: what may come, may come.
Nothing can scare me into submission and fear.
Nothing at all.

But a moth flies straight towards my face,
and I scream like a bloody two year old.
And I ask God why he hates me so much.
Why my face, always me, out of all the people to pick on.

Seriously, moths, fucking cut it out already!
You are all nothing but a bunch of bastards.
Don't blame me for squashing you all with my slippers.
And this is not a fucking poem.