Disease of Doubt

Disease of Doubt

To the artist’s hands,
depressed and aching,
in a season of agony.
Disease takes over
soaking in doubt.

To the solider lost in war,
ambition running afar,
death encircles him.
Disease over powers his current state,
a haggard guide to doubt.

To the child of no genius,
antidote is obscure.
An isolated life
immune to victory,
he welcomes the disease of doubt.

To the writer,
and the constant shadow that follows him
looming in his words,
and lurking in his pen,
self doubt is the poison, living deep within.

From doubt,
to us all,
In a voice so shrill he speaks,
“In courage you lack,
so I took what you gave,
a chance and place within your heart.
Though, now I’m here,
you ask me to leave,
but without me you’re lost
till confidence you regain.”