These doubts…


These doubts

Are all around you,

Surrounding you,

Crushing you.

Telling you the real face of your hopes

That “they are just holograms”

They influence you, says

‘Go touch it, tell me am wrong’

And you do.

You reach out with your hand

To prove and to make sure…

That they are real.

But the doubts win

Every time!

And there are some sounds

Of crack deep behind, echoing.

The doubts are logical.

Hopes are dreams, magic, the rabbit.

It’s everything that doesn’t have proves, is unexplainable.

Doubts; everything understandable, possible(till), proved, told.


What if doubts didn’t exist

Hopes and logic was a mix.

What if doubts weren’t doubts,

But a motivation for hope.

What if understandable, proved and told

Were just told so you can go beyond them.

I mean

What if the idea of doubts

Weren’t to crush

But to make you go further.

Then there’ll be doubts, saying

“Go touch the clouds, tell me m wrong.”

And you touch it.

though there was nothing, you don’t feel the surface.

But then you see the water dripping from your fingers

And the doubts wear his smug face.





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