Uncertain

Doubt is but a fellow,

In relentless pursuit.

Sliding ravenously into a moment.

One pristine in beauty, capable of loveliness

Corrupted by his uglyness.

Holding sway.

Turning the phlegm of disbelief

Into an unmanageable mass.
That clings on a wall of foolish.

What was once capable,
He dispels.

The world crumbles and harm comes.

No floating fairies,

Only monstrous deformities of absolutes.

The fervent soul blasts its last breath.

Its bloody hand lands on the mirror of another.

Reviews

[Ramsey's Rebellion]

Your imagery seems to be very violent. (And I like it!) I can really connect with your emotions in this poem. Doubt is a murderous, soul -sapping b***h.

My favorite part is "Turning the phlegm of disbelief/ into an unmanageable mass." It makes me think of creeping slime that eventually overtakes everything, or even of disease that seems so innocuous at first but then leads to total destruction.

One point of constructive criticism:
Your use of punctuation throws me off somewhat, but maybe that is because I am from the school of thought that everything should be written in complete sentences and be grammatically correct. I am also aware that this makes me somewhat of a traditionalist. I don't know if you have a philosophy about punctuation in poetry, but you should try complete sentences and correct commas and see if you like it. (I'm not saying use a complete sentence on every line)

anyways, I hope that these reviews are helpful!