The Abyss Within

A trickle of doubt, so small yet deep,
flows into a gaping grief that won't sleep.
A wellspring of sorrow, fed by fears
of unknown shadows that whisper in my ears.

Pursued by the dread of what's yet to be,
a phobia of illusions that I cannot see.
These phantoms rise, casting light and shade,
illuminations of self where trust decayed.

Self-betrayal festers, a wound unhealed,
disgust at the secrets I’ve long concealed.
Mirrors reflect what I dread to face—
a fractured soul, a hollowed place.

Each doubt is a drop that ripples wide,
turning the tide that churns inside.
Fear blooms into shapes I cannot grasp,
slipping through fingers I desperately clasp.

The trickle becomes a torrent so wild,
a flood that drowns the once-hopeful child.
For in the darkness, illusions dance,
tempting my mind into a trancelike stance.

I fear the unknown, the shadows they hide,
the phantoms that whisper, "Come step inside."
Yet in these depths, where illusions grow,
the seeds of self-doubt take root and sow.

Disgusted with myself, a creature untamed,
haunted by reflections that burn with shame.
For in the light of self, the darkness reveals
a betrayal so deep, the wound never heals.

But what is this grief if not my own,
a pain that lingers, a sorrow grown?
The trickle of doubt becomes my sea,
an abyss that swallows the heart of me.

And still, I search for the light to break,
to shatter the illusions and shadows fake.
Yet the more I seek, the more I'm lost,
pursued by the echoes of what I've cost.

A trickle of doubt, a gaping void,
where hope is shattered, and trust destroyed.
Yet somewhere in the depths, a flicker remains—
a spark of self-love that fights through the chains.