The Whisper That Holds Me Back Poem by ashok jadhav

A whisper rises when I try to choose,
A subtle questioning beneath my skin.
It lists the dangers I have never faced,
It multiplies the smallest hesitation,
And weighs the future with imagined faults.
I see the path, yet pause before the first step,
As if some unseen hand resists my motion.
Each option trembles under its own shadow,
And certainty retreats from my outstretched hand.
I reason, argue, plead with my own mind,
Yet doubt returns, persistent as a tide.
Perhaps this voice is neither cruel nor wise,
But keeps me measured, wary, slow to fall.
Still, in its insistence, life itself delays,
And every choice becomes a heavier thing.