He stands there frozen to the spot,
Summoning all the courage he's got.
On his forehead lie beads of sweat,
His bete noire must now be met.

Breathing deeply in and out,
in his mind a rising doubt.
Can he be the master of his fear?
How he wishes he wasn't here.

the pulse is beating in his head,
And his mind is filled with dread,
There's a rushing noise inside his ears,
He almost begins to break down in tears.

He can't go through with it all again,
He thinks he's starting to go inzane!
Staring ahead with unseeing eyes,
The vestige of hope within him dies.

He shrinks from the thought of the struggle ahead,
But "Face your fears!" his mother had said.
So although within the shadows loom,
He steps in to the Maths classroom.

(This was written for my best friend Peter; He has alot of
trouble with numbers and anything mathmatical and it
actually got to the stage he would have nightmares about the
Maths class)