Doubt

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Doubt is my enemy.


Glares as we enter the arena.


His sick, twisted grimace is smugly smushed against a 


Charicatured nose.


Slits for eyes but they laugh


Assured of their victory.


He's black; body, mind, and soul.


Cracks of bone as we stretch


Drips of sweat.


Think Gladiator.


Think Underdog.


Boxer championship.


Think classic struggle


But add primal, physical manifestation.


I'm outnumbered.


Even as Doubt approaches, Hesitation pins me down.


Thought flits, distracting.


Too many.


My punch lands that disgusting, malformed, reeking face!


Instead of felling, as enemy should,


That creature dissipated. Disappeared.


Left me without perverse pleasure


Of the last, demeaning victory hit.


In his place,


That damned, self-righteous, demon-man,


A mirror.

Created: Mar 04, 2011

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