Doubt

doubt is like a cloud that is as dark as stout, that rains over your head, it has a voice and it shouts, it has a crooked path route, like 16 shots to the head to pass out, only to the most devout, self doubters, it scatters like flees on the backs of dogs, an unwanted bog, waiting to burst and explode at the height, annoying mental croaks like a frog, it strikes at the weakest moment at night, lying in bed looking at the starry night, like corrupting your dreams as you sleep silently, quietly, a battle rages, no blood but it still reaches the front pages, you can see read it from the doubters face like a gauge, you fall when you engage in this tempting phase, a self-doubters friend is his mirror image where he can pretend to be someone else only to be crushed by his fears, so he goes back to his reality where he despises to the highest degree, but he is afraid to risk it, delicate like an age old biscuit, it is easy to mis it, to be a misfit, but in his heart is an imprint of the life he wants to be married with, but the shadows around him haunt him, his mirror image isn't him, he is walking a tight rope, sweat pours down his brow, his vision narrows as he looks down at the crowd, as he looks around at the onlookers, but his focus is like magic like hocus pocus, but his pompus ignorance keeps looking down, his face is stoic, no smile no frown, just focus, like a circus act waiting and wailing, he walks the tight rope, no strings no rope, only with him are his clothes and wings of hope, breath by breath, step by step, hoping his next decision is a stepping stone instead of a tombstone