I've lost my soul so many times. Or it has been broken in and away through chips and chimes.
Tipped off cliffs and snatched by mimes. Blitz in s--t and hit through bricks.
Drained by ticks and left for pains to pick.
Unchosen and hosed down by beeches and clothed clowns.
Dragged by the tide and no longer at my side.
Crashed against rocks and pulled past the stop.
Cracked through mistakes and fallen to plots to undertake.
Wanted by hell and flaunted from heaven.
Taken from tenant and torqued from benevolence.
Past to present and penance to prevalent. Senement to sediment.
Cemented to pretentious pricks and credited to distasteful tricks.
Dragged from beneath me and pushed from above.
Stuck in a twisted turn and separated from trust. Always labeled as lust and had table turned on love. What such luck and everything gets f****d.
Then inspires envy whenever I get something good to remember which brings more awful attempts at payback and resent.
For when I get back on the horse it gets shot and breaks a leg. Yet I'm stuck to continue and mourn my fallen steed because all that happened to it was me.
Peeving to the deceiving so the make me grieve and spin.
Unil I'm nothing but splints. Bandage the gangrene called my heart and then continue to try and do my part. Only to be shot from a vantage and snarked at by b -----ds. They tried to cull my hardened soul and take whatever I behold.
But why? What have I done but denied to comply? Left incomplete and tainted by perpetual deceit. It appears it's left me weak but it's just that I don't speak.
They'd say I was meek but if I inherit the earth it shall burn. I'll create an ark for the covenant and put the snakes in an urn.
Throw it to the depths of the deep and won't mutter a peep. Instant corinthian will walk away and disintegrate whatever was so great.
Forge the pain into an armour and never burden it with my name.
Drop the weight of all shame and let it crack the earth and level plains.
Deter the tame and be wild with a smile. But nothing of sweetness it shall be an expression of defeat less banishment of all my human weakness.
For humanity and banished me. But I hold on because no one wants to find out what I'll become. Forget Satan spawn if I give in the devil will run
Nobody wants my soul. It's too brittle and old. The cracks leave shards and are sharp to the cold. If you wore it it would be awful it'd only bring pause to the portal.
It'd be like holding the pause button and watching the notification flicker and stutter. I've already sold it to everyone who would pay for it. But that was a wicked trick for they returned it to the one they thought earned it. Or stayed earnest and discarded it to passing winds only for it to find its way home and wick back and stick .
It always hurts.
I put it in a box with all my a drawbridge and moat.
Made it a castle and disregarded it's vote.
Nicknamed it the impalee and ignored it's decree.
Measured it to a degree and observed it's perpetual defeat.
But alas. It always. Cometh back. Out of the mystery and shrouded by smoke and bitter tingency. With a groan and a croak then a gasp leads me to poke. It whimpers and cinders. Like embers in a cold December. Then a puff and a crack. The fire comes back. I give it a smack and a pat on the back as I can't bear to see it seep through the vacuum.
The empty hole that is my cold dark bitter heart. Is always waiting to be reunited with the weight of it. That heavy burning melted weight that could cause the sun to deflate. Made of mistakes and made in mistake.
Blamed for the place and grained to the pace. If I were to hold it you would see it on my face.
But alas this burden to bear and endure is an honour, not a disgrace.
For who else would behoove with a soul that causes me to shoe wealth. It's a lonely feel felt. Knowing there's ways good reason for people to lose myself. But again I am caught in passed tense. I grow bitter and cynical of my soul that flickers then regains glow.
If you were to throw it to the wind or water it would only flow back and get caught up. In the mortar the pores up the awestruck loitering awn that falls from your yawn. It'd sneak back in that bleak crack. And you'd choke till the smoke stacks.
Ahh my soul, my brittle bitter withered soul. Why won't you just stay away. You only cause me pain and take my voice so I can't complain.
But alas you are my crash test dummy. To see if the cement is still runny. To see if my chosen tense is still funny and whether my jokes are still crummy.
I could smite you to crumble and throw in the air to be done with your fumble. But you'd only return with a mumble and break the ground with a stumble.
My airbag, my Nokia. I try to chew you off like a wolf looking at his leg like a sewn rag. But that only provides a pass for time and then a painful blowback that leaves me speaking incoherently in unavoidable mimed rhymes. If I were to actually find a new owner for you It'd make everyone feel bad.
But being left with you is like wearing nothing but landmines surrounded by hounds and forced to run blind with a timed switch. Hot potato with block of molten rock whilst deafened by beethoven
