Poetry of My Soul

Soul, o soul, Fill me with an essence. Whether it be dusk or pure. O soul, my soul, Does genocide rage inside, Of you. Does it fill the parched Niles, With blood, So the deprived can quench their thirst. O soul, your soul, Can your soul Feed? Save? “Can it realize?” Can it plant? Can it give birth? O soul, o soul, Can you see peace? Can you breathe? Because I can’t for my soul, whether it be dusk or pure, Can’t feel, or see, Because your soul, Your soul only sees the violence in my soul, Your soul only sees the repulsive in the world, Your soul, your soul, Dares not even save me or the precious soul of this world.