Doubt

I greet you with a sense of accomplishment. An accomplishment of having made my way to this forsaken pedestal that we call a stage, to be pried open in the eyes of the audience, to be drunk in by ears. Truth is, most of what I'm saying is untrue. 

Who am I? The audiences asks me. 

Who am I? I ask myself.  

A simple molecule of thought stirs, trying to answer that relentless question because the rest of me does not want it. Who is this man that dares to stand before you this day is not the question, nor would it be the answer. The answer of your fears is more complicated than that. The answer, to the demons crawling beneath your feet as you watch me, 

eyes 

on 

me! 

The deception upon you that I lay with a seemingly friendly face of warmth and innocence, the way my words pour sweet honey down your ears, the question here, is why?  

As the monsters of your nightmares reach out now to touch your unsuspecting faces, I say ask yourself, why! The shell of mortality that you now inhabit screams for you to stop lying, stop deceiving yourself, why have you come to the point where you doubt your own words? 

As I stand before the mirror I say nay to the demons, nay to the fears and thrice nay to doubt for I am me, as full as can be, as complete as can be, as free as can be.  

I hear mother calling. It must be time for me to step away from the forsaken pedestal I call a stage, away from my own judgemental, prying eyes, away from this mirror. I may yet learn to love myself again, yet first I must fight these demons that make me doubt.