A seed floats on a whisper, your mind the perfect environment for it to grow.
Doubt sprouts, it’s twisting vines infecting your mind with a maddening poison.
Every encounter comes with crippling paranoia and fear as the plant blooms.
It’s black petals a shield against ration rhyme or reason, just as the poison creeps through your memories and experiences.
Blanketing them with a sticky sap. Your mind is no longer yours,
doubt has taken over, and you whisper in a friends ear.
Completing the cycle.