Whenever I'm full of self-doubt,
I often curse myself out,
In my mind and under my breath,
Pity, really, should be the cousin of death,
For those who can't sleep,
A break from being conscience is a treat,
Being woke's a cruel joke,
I envy the masses,
So oblivious to these cultural and personal disasters,
Happy, carefree with no guilt at all,
They don't pray to God, but pay weekly for Powerball,
I shake my head at it all, trying to figure it out,
Then I think I should just quit, on account of self-doubt.
WarriorCarryingWater
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Books Written By Poet
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Self-doubt
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life
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OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY WarriorCarryingWater
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