When I stand before F, it is the letter of of longing.
Sometimes, F burns like fire or faith.
F is the beginning of forever,
but not so beautiful if it fails, or falls short.
When offensive, F will spit in your face.
Sometimes, F is flat, a foolish boy, a fickle love affair.
Like his sophisticated cousin, Phobia,
F tries to frighten us with fate,
But F is just the sound that fear makes
when your feet are frozen to the floor.
F must be comforted by other, softer letters.
