Fevor

When left with ceaseless doubt,
Never knowing if better without,
False praises enshrined in fractions,
Ever judged by self-depricating actions,
Who can beleive in me when I won't?
For every conquest rendered unforgiven,
Separated from the heartless living,
My demons clash and thrash underneath,
Never relinquished reward from beleif,
What can beleive in me if they won't?
Hope aspired from cold praises,
Heavy is the heart as the hand raises,
To sheild my eyes from blinding truth,
My faith has been pulled from its roots,
Why beleive when my soul is more beautiful
When crushed?