A seed of doubt planted into a mind
very soon blossoms into a shoot of mistrust.
The branches grow strong with suspicion and wariness,
elongated limbs left to grow freely,
like anything else destined the same way.
Branches grow leaves full of bittersweet hope,
but each one falls away, like a snake shedding its skin,
leaving behind any attempts of kind thoughts.
All that is left is an empty vessel of the trunk,
the person you were before.
Until even that falls apart,
rotting away through the tolling years,
a shadow of your former self.
Full of constant paranoia, trusting no-one.