This Doubting Self

So to win the ragged wreath
of limp affection
we beseech
and race until our feet are raw
to finish lines
of truth because
we tell ourselves this will reflect
our self esteem
to high respect
and yet when all is said and done
we find this race
cannot be won
For even at the starting line
you had yours
and I had mine
There was no race to run! At last~
this doubting self
is in the past.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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