This Soul's Passing

Soul Poetry

Still, she breathes,

but her soul has passed.

Passed like the washed away rains

of yesterday's dreams.

Her heart beats,

tho even she, hears it no more-

nor feels the pulsing of life

through her dried-up veins.

A hollowness has overcome

and led her into the darkened abyss.

Not even the light, which once shone in her eyes,

luminates this pitched state she now resides in.

She's come to know the darkness well,

by way of the actions of others

and has come to accept, yes, even prefer,

this catatonic and emotionless state.

At least in here,

they can send her no further,

harm her no more,

or bear witness, the damage they have done.

For their pleasure in such knowledge,

would be too much more to take.

And she's lived her life to please them.

But no more.

When they stopped loving her,

she doesn't quite know.

More so, she wonders,

if they ever really did love her, at all.

If this is love, she'd rather take hate,

for at least that, she can understand,

thanks to their tutoring

and miss-guidance of her heart.

She'll give them no more reason

to inflict their wounds upon her.

She'll walk away, one day, far from their grasp.

Even farther from their cruel intentions.

They'll wave goodbye-maybe.

But mourn, they will not.

For they haven't noticed her much alive,

to even notice...this soul's passing.

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