The Wounded Soul

A wounded soul i believe to be. A wound inside I cannot see. A wound so great I fear its fate Lest I'm saved by a power that speaks to me. I've reached out, to discover this thing called soul. I ask, no, beg for understanding. Beg to See a sign. Silence is my reply. But here i am. Again I see another day. Why is my soul so silent? It does not speak to me. But yet it must know My thoughts. As I contemplate I realize that Maybe this is my soul speaking. Speaking Without a voice. Instructing me to change my fate before it is to late.