Blots

|Tendrils of Doubt|

I travel far, I travel on,
I travel lacking denouement;
In search of land that can withstand
The lunge of doubt forlorn.

~▪~

The rising ebb, the ebbing soar
Of insecurity demure,
Against my shin, as conjoined twin
Follows me evermore.

~▪~

The salty balm in summer's air
Does naught to thaw my raw despair
At rolling stuck, within this rut-
A writer past repair.

~▪~

O bumble bee in stagnant flight!
O raven, strident, impolite!
O tawny leaf, to soil bequeathed-
O feasting saprophyte!

~▪~

Will suspicion forever mar
My eyes, in tendrils cinnabar,
Will disarray, my hope buffet,
To night and wrinkled star?

~▪~

Will I ever, in sudden writhe,
Betray a poem bold and blithe,
Or watch the midday hack away
My skill with steady scythe?

~▪~

My tumble, Lord, has long begun,
Create a rock, my fall to stunt,
Or chipped and sore, I'll greet your door-
A poet who succumbed.

~•■•~

A/N- One of those days when I feel hopelessly uninspired and insecure about my writing. Also wanted to try out a new metric pattern.
xD