Murder of My Soul
Not intentionally and beyond realization
with every subtle breath
I commenced to murder my soul
with acts that are unlike commonality
like a wielding knife
churning in the mid-section
of the human soul
the murder was intimate
and most un-endearing
as unsettling as it may seem
those behaviors and decisions that are made
unjustifiably contrary to all morality
my innermost being bled
and my soul was dying an untimely death
Resurrection seemed to be denied
time after time after time
I now walk amongst the living
with a butchered, decapitated soul
Effortless attempts to revive
as its slippery cover slides through
irrevocable hands
Mirrored only by demeaning cares
and unmentionable thoughts
the murder was eminent since the moment
of my birth
How come no one stopped me?
Is it really true that they could not see?
Or is it possible that the intense presence
of a soul’s murder
would allow the witnesses to be free?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
