There is that woman by the name of Doubt. She chooses to live in the pit of my stomach. She aches and trembles, and whispers in my ear,
"No"
She lets me know that she's there at just the right moments.
"No."
And although I try to dig her out. Drown her out, I hear her longing, her calling me. Her,
"You're not good enoughs,"
and
"No one's going to like its,"
and
"The it's too lates,"
illuminates my brain so brilliantly sometimes.
Doubt.
Yeah, she can be fierce at times.
And I'm ready to take the bitch on.
