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.
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