It nags at me.

From just behind,
And just beneath.

Demands my hidden attention.

This thing
Is a part of me

That causes my hesitation.

Steals away my belief
That I am in fact a good man.

Bringing me down.

Wearing me down
To where I almost take the last step.

This thing
Though I don't want it

Is every bit a part of who I am.

And I know I do not want it.