I Doubted My “Self”

Four multisyllabic tercets of self-analysis.

The years I’ve spent doubting myself;
I’ve resorted to being basic,
A “self” relegation.

The tears wept are a fountain of wealth.
I contorted my pride; it was visible in my face,
a “self” flagellation

My peers and those around me helped.
I couldn’t afford the grace,
my “self” was in liquidation

I doubted myself into non-existence.
I found my “self”; a consequence of persistence.
I now can see the wealth of “self” buried in the subjective.