Doubt

My Lady, Doubt,

Though she plagues me not,

Abides in sordid squalor of that

Which I'd rather pass

Or look over. The window shatters

She walks through. I see

Your face, her face

The beauty of your dreams, splintered

And shot through with

Doubt, my lady Doubt.

Tatters, no, Tassels

She makes them.

I wonder,

Your bane; so often my gain.

She walks behind you, beside you.

I watch, she glows –

You have kept her well.

So well.

Do you see that which she holds?

Tomorrow, Today

She leeches – the parasitic Doubtess.

For now, content

Her abdomen swelling

A bellyful of sweet dreams

And wistful wishes.

You're new to her

And saccharine.

But soon

I smile, though my heart is clutched by fear.

You will know her,

You will clamp her down.

My lady Doubt,

So carefully sculpted.

You will use her,

As my lady and I used you.

You will conquer the world

I see it, past your careful screen of trepidation.

And all from the seed of my gain.