Poetry

The Damaged Soul

By Wallace - 14 February 07

We are each of us born with a purity of spirt
No baggage to weigh down our claim
Bright eyes to a golden flame
The world open wide: Nothing to fear in it

When does our innocence wane?
The first day we hear our parents yell at each other
The first cruel words said from a lover
In our school days, when a bully calls us a name

Our soul slowly rips and hides for cover
The negative forces gather in droves
Filling our heart with lost hopes
Telling us we'll never be a good father or mother

Despair becomes a slippery slope
Falling further and further from our beginning
Dark clouds, loneliness winning
Finally, our depression makes us no better than Merope

We can no longer stop our sinning
We give our soul away forever
Believe we deserve no better
Our life out of control, spinning

Once we recognize these cruel fetters
Dampened eyes cleared from numerous tears
Our thoughts wiped clean from our fears
We can redeem our past from all debtors

Slowly, we can rise to face our peers
Repair our battered and vacant soul
Grab it back; become bold
In good actions over years and years

Yet even repaired and redeemed, we still contain holes
Cracks for past bad acts
For purity cannot be bought back
The damaged soul can never be whole