The Cold Sweat!

I am scared of the chapped redden lips,
and not to the numbing Siberian winters!
I am scared to the hunch of falling,
and not of the Stature!
I am scared of the muddled mid-night untenated
unanticipated wake-ups,
and not to the perception of falling in love!
I am scared of wobbling all the winsome persons,
and not to the idea of being relinquished!
I am scared of those ghastly atrocious sleep paralysis,
and not to the interminable bête noire!
I am scared of vocalising just a single piece of word,
and not to the inscription of a thousand-worded
treatise!
I am scared of the downright despondency,
and not to the fact of being "me" as my
sole companion!
I am scared of the visible darkness,
and not to the auburn one!
I am scared of the people parading-off
"careness",
and not to the customary non-chalantness!
I am scared to every denouement, my thought emulates
and not to the venturesome physical exertion
my body does!

So,basically, What am I really sacred of?!
Be-wildered by the dubiousness of her
Self-articulation of her own consternation,
a cold sweat manifested itself over her forehead!