In The Soul It Lays
It lets out a hollow whisper...
temptation passes through the soul with a shiver.
In the soul lays humanity.
As the soul's hands become warm,
the soul takes in the melancholy breath full of mourn.
That mournful breath quivers through every inch of the soul's body.
In the soul now lays atrocity.
Caressed in the soul's hands, is what made a killer.
The gun may do the killing, but the finger did pull the trigger;
the finger of that same hand...
that had an enriched soul of humanity,
instead now lays the soul drowning in atrocity.
Only if that hollow whisper was not heard,
only if that temptation was cured,
would you be able to walk around as assured... as before.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryPoems I have written, and that were written during times of reflection and thought,
