A bundle of doubts lies in my heart,

Weighing me down with every step,

Every pulse, breath, or second,

Invisible chains, stopping me from doing,

The Daring, the right,

My goals are so far they’re out of sight,

I need to find my inner, hidden might,

Shatter these chains, yet I know,

They protect me from the unknown,

Safe, but cruel constant decay,

Of mind, so I should doubt whether I

Would escape this caravan, into the forest,

When everyone’s looking at me expectantly,

To go with them, a safe path,

That leads to a horror only I can see,

But yes, I know the horror is felt by all,

An ominous dread, and yet no one heads into the forest,

Where a vague beacon of light shows.

I have probed, walked to the edge of this road,

To enter the unknown, but these chains,

Connected to loving faces, to a future I do not like,

Where a parasite eats away at me, one that I had sowed,

Doubt that rips me apart from the inside, for ideals I had slain,

That were part of me, destroyed by the sword of reality’s spite.

And these chains, they lash, hurt, and bind me,

I should have the strength to break them,

Yet the monster in my heart, my doubt, weakens me

Drains me of my strength, will, and endurance.

I cannot walk this path forever,

Yet I cannot stray either,

Chaos riddle my very being,

I daresay I will persevere, however.

I can, and I will,

I will take this caravan to that light,

Off this dreaded path,

And I will use the greatest tool to take us there,

Not strength, not power, but cunning and intelligence.

I will prepare myself to be stabbed, spat upon,

Ridiculed, hated,

A shield of cold detachment,

To protect my fragile ego,

And I know how many tethers will snap,

Leaving me alone.

I do not wish to be alone but it doesn’t matter,

As realism tells me there is no one to trust,

Nor to help to slay, this monster,

That lays in my heart, nor shatter,

The chains that bind me, they cannot be affected by mortal rust.

And so I must rely on no one but myself,

Hope that there is enough left of me to make it,

That most of me can’t be engulfed,

So I live to make it, to that light.

I stare at the forest in longing.

The chains tighten, and turmoil wreaks havoc within,

My knees are shaky, my pulse is thrumming, to be heard,

A steady thump in my ears, which may as well be burning knives.

“This may be my undoing,” I mutter.

I release a hot unstable breath,

And I wince, as chains lash at my legs, leaving painful marks and scars,

I try to summon what little willpower I have left,

But there is none. The chains wrap around my arms and neck,

I fall to my knees, my head hangs shamefully.

My heart turns heavier, turmoil seeks a darker shade of black,

And I get up unsteadily and stare vacantly ahead. I turn away, walking in defeat.

Yet, there is a smirk on my face.

There, in my hand, glints a fine silver link.