The unwholesome trinity

Failure is a haggard old man
He is gaunt and bent
And he walks with a tedious limp
When you call out to him across the street
He tries to wave back but he is just too weak
So instead he forces a fake smile
Which quickly evaporates from his grave face
Leaving a bitter melancholy scowl in its place

Guilt is a woman ugly and spent
She is fat and her face is stiff with the strains
Of worry and the heavy burden of regret
Quick to complain and eager to scorn
She has no real friends
And her neighbours go out of their way to avoid her
When she looks at you, your confidence
And your pride wither away under her stony gaze

Doubt is a little child, innocent and frail
House-bound: Too timid to go out and play
Squinting like a bat in the dark he curiously surveys
The activities of the outside world
From behind the heavy curtains and firmly drawn blinds
Retreating in fright from the brightness of the sun
Recoiling in mortal terror from the wallops and bangs
Of the common everyday events

I was mentored by failure, for he is my dad
Suckled and reared by guilt for she is my mother dear
Between the pair they taught me what not to do,
Where not to go, what not to say, what not to like
What not to think and what not to dream about
They established the foundations of my morality
And prescribed the boundaries of my immagination and I,
With half the self worth of a mere gnat, am doubt