The Mind is a most mysterious place,
One of doubt and self-loathing, hidden dark.
Yet, sprinklings of elegance - quiet grace,
In place of shadow, soul seeking a spark.
Question everything, know nothing for sure,
Certainty, a thin veil of quiet doubt.
Wishing conviction could grasp us once more,
And rock us softly, ending the drought.
Confidence eludes the greatest of minds,
In its shadow, forever searching blind,
Almost graspable, yet slightly behind,
The intricate ways of the burdened mind.
The heavy heart swirls as the world doth spin,
Searching, desperate for the courage within.
About the Creator
Sian N. Clutton
A horror and thriller writer at heart, who's recently decided to take a stab at other genres.
I sincerely hope you find something that either touches your soul or scares your socks off.
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