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.

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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

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