That Hint of Paranoid

That hint of paranoid
that creeps upon,
that clouds the sky
and hides the dawn,
that feeling sneaking,
that suspicion afoot,
it feels too bad,
it isn't good.
It ruins the positive,
makes a promise broken,
turns a monument
into a token.
It takes excitement
down a notch,
as if to expose
it to be a crock.
It allows the build-up
to take place
to enact a tear-down
right in a face.
It convinces a mind
of all of the wrongs,
even in the midst
of the rights so strong.
It poisons a perspective
with a little drip
in a drink that will
inevitably be sipped.
As long as it
possesses a breath
it will always
end in death,
therefore let it breathe not
a single time
unless an eventual demise
is for what you pine.