Dance of Doubt

As I write my brain whispers wicked words of doubt soft as a newborn’s sleepy sigh the babbling of a bubbling brook before it suddenly begins to shout screeching like the ear piercing feedback from stereo speakers shrieking shrilly as a hot teapot booming low as a bass drum beating in a repetitive rhythm while horned demons with their cloven hooves dance madly amid the cacophony of chaos chanting a malevolent mantra of loathing and discontent wielding daggers of diffidence they drive deep into my confidence blood dripping from the blades the silence of those outside myself nodding apathetic assent