Estranged Doubt

How strange.

Viewing things differently;

I never imagined viewing things differently.

"For survival", I solemnly claimed.

But is it true? I doubt it.

 

How strange.

It's become alot easier;

For only today? Not sure but it's been easier.

"It'll change", I convince me.

If it doesn't will I still be me? I doubt it.

 

What'll happen. What'll it be.

This irrational fear gradually consumes me.

Sparks flee when I contemplate possibilities.

I should stay where I think I belong.

 

Not one will I impact, I thought.

Others have thought the same I'm sure.

But I believe, I think, there's a slight chance.

Does that make me an optimist?

 

It's not strange.

I'm doing it again;

Losing myself, my thoughts are at it again.

"For survival", maybe that's true.

It'll change.

On the days when doubt is estranged.

This poem is about: 
Me

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