My Soul

My Soul

My soul is deep like a bottomless pit of emptiness. My heart, a locked box. The key is with someone who can hold it. I hold it, in my scarred hand. And as i hold myself up, I feel the sudden opening of the latch... I'm free. But I'm not free, I'm trapped in a body that will never truly be me, thats ruled by antidepressants, changing into what I'm not, what I have no desire to be. Is this life? Or am I dreaming of a place so terrible. No turning back, not now. I keep running on a broken soul. Will I ever truly be free? Free of this dream I am dreaming? Or is this forever... Never freed, running eternally through this waste of time we call life. But is it life? When all we do is pass it by. Do we ever really live? No, it is simply existing. We exist. Never feel. except for feelings of anguish. For Hell does exist, and we are all damned to it from the very curse of walking this torturous earth. All of us. Even you. We all are trapped in our own minds searching and searching for something we don't understand. Why? Why do we search if we will never find? Never find who we truly are. Never to truly be ourselves due to the crumbling society of this planet.