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Everyone likes a dark poem every now and then, right? Right? RIGHT? Oh well, I suppose it’s just me. Another poem that woke me up from a comfortable sleep. My subconscious must be working on me overtime.

Unedited, straight off the iPhone press:

Seasons of Doubt

… pass through my life
Dark shadowy winds
Wet with tears – swirling mists of despair
Inseparable and indistinct

Doubts of life, love, meaning.
I wander this world of melancholy
A doorway back, yet I wish not to leave.
To stay is to never be loved again.

Searching searching searching,
The elusive reason to live escapes.
Answers must come from within,
Their absence a frightening contemplation.

I’m a tree alone on a hill,
Weathering raging storms of doubt.
Pelted by the stinging sleet of criticism.
Roots long exposed, ache for comfort.

Shaken by the winds of age,
Cowered by branches unrevived by spring
Saddened by loneliness
Captured by despair in seasons of doubt…