The Death of Doubt

The Death of all doubt, Now slain by your words, Stained with your ink, Like blood on woodwork, Downward I spiraled, Day after day, Into an abyss, Losing my way, Vain efforts and pain. Pain to heavy to hold, Crying; an escape, On nights alone and cold, Sold on depression, As my only friend, Torturing my mind, Until it all ends. Then I found you, My light in the dark, Killer of melancholy, A fire from a spark, Apart yet burning, Strong enough to fight, Nothing can extinguish, Our flame shall remain bright, How right this all is, To not question trust, Simple and perfect, ... I love you so much. The Death of all doubt, Now slain by your words, Stained with your ink, Like blood on woodwork.