Spiraling (poem)

i stand at the top of a staircase.
enveloped in light, but mired in sin.
a lucifer complex.

that sinking feeling of doubt,
that question to belong,
whispers to me like mephistopheles.
begging and tempting me to start,
and i take a first step
down.
then another.
…and more
spiraling further.
down, down, down.
the people rush past up the staircase, but i avert mine eye.
my mind vociferates and mutters my silent oaths, wax poetic.    
to me, they are but moths drawn to that false light.    
“it is me,”    
i cry.        
as i descend further still,            
i implore the importance of the pain that i feel.                
do i not deserve it?                
i took this first step, there is no going back.                    
hesitation fosters comfort.
(but i bargain on doubt and fear)
i started this, and must find my end,
somewhere in this black unknown.
the people still continue in their ascent,
but do i dare to question.    
my own intentions in dissention,        
and join them in their splendorous joy?                    
acknowledging my blindness, i know i cannot.                 
their light no longer reaches me,                                
spiraling furthermore.        
they call me to join them
    but i do not.
        they claw and they beg, 
            but i must break free. 
                and with resilient regret,
                    i stand in solitude, for a moment of self-reflection.
                        still that whisper returns,
                            i have made my choice.
                                another step forward
                                    and another,
                                        downward. ​