Doubt's Door

Without much experience behind my name,
the days that go by seem often the same.
I live in the shadow of shining success,
the dark hands of Doubt my heart do posses.
Towering failure threatens attempts,
each sign of success he will always resent.
Doubt gloats with a smirk of knowing control,
as the grey floors of defeat swallow my soul.
In misery on the etching floor I writhe,
from light and warmth my stone heart's deprived.
On hands of hope I prop my paling face,
and with weary eyes I crawl out of this place.
My next attempt; strength shines in my eyes,
each door brings me closer to my hard earned prize.
But the last heavy door I seem to recall,
Doubt's inviting physique into his arms make me fall.