Constant Doubt Poem by Charles Dawes

all my words, in their different compositions
never really please me.
I am starting to think that they,
the letter formations,
are plotting to overthrow me.
paranoia has stricken me to always
check them twice.

they seem to be up to something.
the way they shift their eyes
and mask their faces with false emotion.
the art of camouflage has been perfected
by these troublesome vowels and consonants.
when I seek out their true form,
they have always committed treason.