Fear, not fact

When fear sounds like certainty.

Today I glimpsed into a reality of my own making,

Fragments of information jammed together like a mismatched jigsaw,

To soothe the confusion in my heart.

Does this make sense or is it fiction?

From afar the pieces fit,

But close up, its been forced together,

To build a conclusion in my mind.

These conclusions hurt,

The fear is paralysing,

It seems to make sense but

Is it just make-believe?

The conclusions drawn signify the end

A true end of what we once were,

What we once shared.

The conclusions suggest we never mattered

So are the conclusions to be believed

Or is this the fear of not knowing?

Or never knowing?