Doubt

A collar tight

Chokes air and voice

Leaves questions snared

In every choice

And shackled so

You cannot move

Down either path

That you may choose

And feel the sting

Of sharp regret

If you should even

Take a step

This thing,

Rotten and grotesque

That sits heavily

Upon your chest

And plagues you so

Upon your quest

With thoughts too tangled

To get some rest

And does not heed

Your strained behest

A quiet plea

Insist no jest

Your wish to banish

The monstrous pest

To banish, to banish

And breath again

To feel your feet

Move freely again

To be able to sleep again

With no weight upon your chest