Everybody has a poem #2 : My Own Doom

Everybody has an inkling of the poet blood in him or her, life must has given each and every one of us something to write in rhythm.

My Own Doom

I am my own doom
For I sit here in self pity
And swing my feet so ardently
Making no effort yet to stand

I am my own doom
For I woke up late
Though I'd slept all through yesterday
And my bed is calling still.

I am my own doom
For i stopped thinking
Of ways I'll find my way
And I've let my mind to rot

I am my own doom
For I let my fingers laze around in pots
Of warm savoury delicacies
The perfect handiwork of doom

I am my own doom
I've let my mouth agog
To speak only petty meaningless things
That only boost my pride

I am my own doom
My eyes are fiery wide open
But I see nothing above the cloak
The future now holds no spell

I am my own doom.
Of them that hear a lot
But wouldn't give a listening ear
To the things that matters most

I am my own doom
The person I've become today
Wasn't the person I had wished
For my choices had marred my days

Thank you for reading,I hope it passes the message.