Cynical Wordsmith

There are times
I doubt myself.
Was that the right decision?
Did I consider the consequence?
I feel remorse.
I feel regret.
But the decisions are made
And I can’t seem to falter.
To doubt my decisions
Would invite doubt
Into myself
And all that I’ve done.
A brooding darkness
That lingers and asks,
“What if, kind sir?
What if?”
I’ve entertained them,
Oh yes,
But always seem to find
That certain solemn end.
This is my existence,
This is my reality.
And my doubts always come
Ten seconds too late.

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.