Doubt

Is this doubt?

What do I feel? Doubt?

Aha, I doubt it,

and isn’t it ironic that I’m mounted on a mountain?

I'm sounding all my proudness while I'm shouting,

but the sound is just drowned in the fountain of youth.

I'm drownin' in truth

of the boundless amounting’s surrounding the counting’s of time,

we will all be taken in by the sands of the ground and the waters of time.

Slaughtered my kind,

Father, Do you want us to die?

Flaunting your power, but my thoughts ar'in despise.

Haunting my hours, Demise is what I'm cauterized by,

and my eyes, are caught in the sky.

NOW MOVE MY MOUNTAINS,

RESTING QUESTIONS NEVER TO BE BESTING TO MOVE THE THOUSANDS,

because I planted that mustard seed in the planet,

did you want to muster defeat, GIVE ME WHAT I’M GRANTED,

why do I have to suffer this grief simply to just manage,

do I have to live on the streets with just a jumper and jeans,

do I wonder indeed about the grandest numbers and things

that are flashing, imagine the canvas in maddening mentals torn asunder,

coming from the mouth of someone who was unborn from blunder.

Thorns adorn the turns of my forehead,

horns that learn to mourn their wars inform they’re stores that they need more dead,

but you’re the poor amore who pours liquor into his chalice and claims that he needs to vent because of the shit-storm he’s under,

unfortunately I’m informing ye, that’s me.