Wounds of your soul
like a delicate mortal flower
never seems to heal but null
the once was power
your sadness or depression?
constant battles of internallity
your life gone; no passion.
No feelings, amicable to please one.
Your tortured, tattered body
abused by who but none
but everyone by who can't see?
Pity of none but played by all
Ragdoll to others who play you well,
so shall summon to call
of whom Hade's Death so swell?
That upon asked to question debate
said then, "Live your soul like says
for so death sees you're late."
But not of I nor he nor she obeys.
Not one hears voice
none understands your soul.
But shouts of continual bloodlust
of hate and evil, not one full of rejoice.
your soul now cold,
continues the journey down where there is no trust.
Like a mortal flower
inflicted upon, wounds.
Killed by frozen winds.
But is death the only way out?
