Have you always doubted me?

Rain, rain,
Raindrops fall
Fall everywhere
To the ground,
From the sky,
Through the air.

There was a time that I
Would laugh at the word
Known as the curse
Of the world—
Humanity

Destructors,
Murderers,
Abominations

Heedless,
­Reckless,
Unspeakable

Without any doubt
In grandeur
Thoughts of themselves
Among artists—

Animals,
Innocents,
Irreproachable

Here for but
Love and safety
Nothing more

Humans—
Dreadful,
To the core

They have emotions of greater capacity
Empathy beyond explainable magnitude
Yet with humanity are neglected
In the case of convenient
Vile manipulation

Here I’ll ponder thoughts in nostalgic regret
Why give staggering, mighty, beauteous emotions
To only those who misrepresent
This bestowal of divinity

Can doubt be a faith?

Is it just I who gets that anxious, squirming
Sensational feeling? Like creativity suppressed—
But by what? My faults? The fates? My own self
For I cannot convey how positively debilitating,
Paralyzing, transfixing—
I don’t want to live in subdued twilight,
Sedated by my own ideas of inabilities,
But who or what, or what in me
Can prevent even the faintest of hindrances
From annihilating the depth of my inspirational understanding…
I’m yet to discern any of the undetectable barriers
Or is it that—metaphysics?
So engrossed, preoccupied, wearied by what
The idea that there’s something
Anything at all, preventing the finesse
As here I cogitate
Dimensions past me...