Life is taking me where I do not want to go.
Like a dandelion, the wind is blowing me further away from where my heart lies.
I have no control, no say.
Cruel children on the street have casually blown away parts of me I dearly needed.
I do not know what's left of me anymore.
The dearest part of me fell in love with the earth a long time ago.
Happy it is, rooted, growing, with children of it's own.
And my weight is not enough to sustain me.
A flight to my heart will surely destroy what's left of me.
What is left of me?
YOU ARE READING
The Soul's Voice
PoetryThe soul wishes It vies for a world of Love, devoid of hatred, knowing full well that the wish may not come true. It wishes because it's the only thing it knows how to. And a soul's wish, a soul's voice Carries more power than the wor...
