by Sam Ward ’21
Doubt clears the brain, let the stains come,
And let the words fabricate themselves.
The slippery slope between hope and certainty,
Muddled by the inbetween.
We get a glimpse of a panoramic view,
What you see says more about the flaws in you
Then it does about reality,
Strength to those who question,
Cursed are those who self-reflect.
It gets easier to fade to another place,
Condensed images of buildings collapsing,
With people on the fringes selling matches,
Cracked seed left out,
Who declined the sunshine,
Who lives their life on borrowed time,
Who worries about the perfect rhyme,
And splits it, rather said than wish to say,
So focused, so focused on just getting by,
Chasing bygones with bated breath.
Peaceful, I am, when the rules of the game,
Picking up a signal, these are
Visions of palette colored by
Doubt. I feel the footsteps coming,
I can feel all my walls just closing in,
Can’t leave the bed, there are ghouls in
The attic and a strange hand pulling all the strings.
Who would have thought that we all live in fear,
We all just call the brave ones crazy.
Disregard the steps it takes to create
An imperfect lifetime, filled with regrets,
Worrying about inconsequential things,
These schemes, this wisdom.