Your few specks of doubts,
Move along with the wind and fly across the realm
To pierce through the illusions
Of all the happiness in my brain.
Your constant second-guessing further weakens
the bridge I built on years of collected hope,
abandoning me to the mercy of the
icy cold stares of the heavenly doors.
Until all that's left,
is the flicker of my withered self,
burning dim and slow in the night.
And I wander the empty roads,
with nothing but my tattered soul,
leaving trails of memories behind.
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Flicker of Withered Self
Poetrypoems for the crazy minds with big hearts **Disclaimer** The art on the cover is by Leonid Afremov