I have this fear of phobias.
Phobophobia's what it's called.
Did I just hear a noise upstairs?
I think I'm going bald.
Agoraphobia keeps me safe
from harmful grass outside,
but while I'm sheltered in my house,
I feel my cells divide.
They tell me yellow's just a hue
and circus clowns don't kill.
I'm sure if 8 won't take my life
then peanut butter will.
I fear some people say I smell.
Ablutophobia's the cause.
The fear of bathing's right up there
with my fear of gauze.
I try to keep my words real short
from fear of words too long.
I think the fact they labeled it
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is wrong.
Omphalophobia's an odd one too,
if I must be sincere,
but what could be more scarier than
this belly button here?
I also have this little quirk,
the fear of string and twine.
And sure, it's true, I'm scared of beards,
yes, even if it's mine.
When dare I try to go outside
there's very few Hello's.
For seldom do I ever try
to hide my fear of clothes.
Perhaps I'll share my woes and fears
and then I can rejoice.
Or maybe not because there's this,
my fear to make a choice.
When Barophobia comes kicking in,
I'm sure you'll all agree,
dumbbells aren't for working out...
when fearing gravity.
My phobias of phobias,
some doubt that they exist.
I'd name them all but won't because
my giant fear of lists.
|
