I tread lightly,
and though I may seem
as deathly as silence,
nobody hears
within these cells of mine
the notes that
have chosen me
to bring forth
their sacred symphony —
it is composed yet decomposed,
melodious yet discordant,
sublime yet rudimentary,
as complete as it can be
as if there were no tomorrow,
yet infinitely incomplete.

I am more than what I seem,
yet I am nothing more.

I am a bird in flight,
yet I know the ground
more than the skies above.

I am my own sanctuary,
yet I am the cold prison
that keeps my heart
behind…

I am a forgotten crater,
sunken deep in the earth,
I once was formed
by a celestial body
orbiting a wondrous realm
that I felt belonging in —
but now, I am only earthly,
ever-so-fleeting
and hidden from view,
a remnant of former glories
that mean nothing now.

So who am I,
and who shall I be?
How can I lament
how unknowable I am
to strangers that pass me by
when I barely recognize
this form I see
right in front of me?

Have I always been this unsettled?
Have I always been destined
to be sunken so low?
I fear what…

Self-doubt is a difficult beast to wrangle, especially when you are caught between believing in yourself and thinking the worst of yourself, where you go back and forth between having the faith that you are capable of more and allowing harsh but true negative evaluations of your shortcomings make you question the entirety of you — even your redeeming qualities and gifts.

As I’m observing my behavior and the behavior of others, concerning self-loathing and self-doubt, people act as if self-loathing is humility.

This can come in the form of sacrificing your needs and long-term goals because you worry about…

How much have I festered in vain?
And how much further
have I sunken
into the mire of another’s
hollow machinations?
How much weariness
have I brought upon myself
in this city of mechanized dreams?
These dreams of woe and grandeur,
these accursed visions
of a lost soul searching
for time beyond time,
still ever fleeting,
ensnared by the wiles
of death, swayed
by the imminent prophecy
that I did not heed.

A mighty fortress
is my heart,
or so I once believed,
but what good is the mighty
and what good is the wise
if my dreams are held captive,
my emotions are stone…