»The soul«
(by Laura Arman)
It's the soul that seeks,
words unspoken,
floating angels,
from ships broken.
Happy endings,
captured and forgotten,
anguish forseen
and left to go rotten.
The soul that's alone,
not tied or marred,
desolate but not empty,
left under a pile of scars.
Tugging on strings,
to contend the war,
that lets us breath,
that lets us breath,
that lets us BREATH,
on the ocean floor.
It cannot be saved,
by grace or fortune,
no spirit can master,
the malaise of torture.
In a Will, it carries on,
with nowhere left to go,
except the twists and turns,
of a road we no longer know.
words unspoken,
floating angels,
from ships broken.
Happy endings,
captured and forgotten,
anguish forseen
and left to go rotten.
The soul that's alone,
not tied or marred,
desolate but not empty,
left under a pile of scars.
Tugging on strings,
to contend the war,
that lets us breath,
that lets us breath,
that lets us BREATH,
on the ocean floor.
It cannot be saved,
by grace or fortune,
no spirit can master,
the malaise of torture.
In a Will, it carries on,
with nowhere left to go,
except the twists and turns,
of a road we no longer know.
submitted on May 10, 2009 : viewed 32 times
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Readers' comments
Ryan Gordon Penn: Beautiful compilation of words, I read it a few times over just because it felt good :-)
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