SOULLESS

I woke up without my soul today.
Last night before I slept I left it dillydallying around the concepts of love, life and other prospects
I've wrecked my mind in search of it, checked everywhere in my heart down to the insides of my pockets
Strange, but I was thinking maybe it got caught looking for some change.
I've widened my search range to the street, begging complete strangers indiscreetly what I could give in exchange for theirs.
My soul-seeking desperation reeking of fears peaking into tears leaking down my face and smears what composure I've held through the years.
Who has it, what ditch does it lie in?
Where could it have gone, could I have kept it from fleeing?
My questions echo through the hollow residue of my being
Maybe I should pray so I’m down to the floor kneeling, praying wordlessly to a God I claim to believe in
.Maybe I should sleep now and see if it returns in the morning.

But what if my soul doesn't miss me?
What if it’s running wild through the fields like an untamed child screaming “I AM FREE, I AM FREE”
“Free of this tiring lunatic chasing after things she can’t have and still can’t figure out where she belongs
Free of embarking her childish fantasies that gets so damn frustrating as the journey prolongs
Free of excusing the misuse of her life, at this age she still can’t confidently walk in her own shoes
They’re always too tight or too loose
Sometimes I even give her the option of going barefoot but she still won’t choose.”
I imagine my soul lying in a hammock on a beach in Maui
Sunglasses on, sipping on margaritas glad to be rid of me.

I let my body sleep but my soul I never let rest
So today, my bones and flesh must do all the work and endure the stress
Today I woke up soulless.

SOME DAYS

Some days my voice gets weak from screaming in silence
I do not wish to speak.
My soul leaks fluid seeping through these eyes
Unarmed with tools to suture my wounds
Yet I seek to discover where the puncture lies.
My efforts are futile;
I curve my lips but still cannot break a smile.

Some days I get too lost within myself
I transform into a different being.
Disgruntled, Ungrateful victim of terror
If seeing be believing
I'm in denial for that cannot be my image in the mirror.
It sells me so short;
Some days I can barely reach anything.

Some days I shove away the hand that feeds
Loneliness welcomes hunger willingly.
There's a hug of which I'm in need
I reject it seemingly.
My body should be labelled 'Out of Order'
No one organ works in conjunction with the other.

Better days I've deemed ordinary
So some days have become necessary

FOR HER

This is for the girl who still loves the one who loved her before
For that glimmer of hope that he'll love her once more
This is for the angel with the fractured wing
Falling down clouds and spacing from the heavens
Missing out on bliss earth could never bring.

This is for the singer who's lost touch with her soul
Her melody is without feeling
Her lyrics without healing
For the young poet spiralling out of control
Their stories remain untold.

This is for she who sits home alone
Her soul mate's gone, children grown
Fleeting memories are all she can call her own.

This is for the internally broken lady
Forced to exchange life for corporate heights
Nights haunted by the cries of her aborted baby.
This is for the void and woes of the barren wife
In a distance, standing distanced from her husband watching another in envy

This is for the innocence of the child paid to get laid
Disgusted by the filth that comes with her trade
If only she had made that grade.
This is for the unwed mother
Always a bridesmaid and never a bride
For the street beggar
Setting her young ones before her pride
This is for the lone soldier
Structured for battle but darkness falls with no one left to hold her.

This is for the lonely girls who have lost their smiles
Though the world seems to revolve without hope
Hold on tight, heaven will be here in a while
Bearing liberation the mind could never conceive
Just say a prayer and then believe.

MISS SUPERFICIAL

Hidden beneath layers of artificial coating
She's obsessed with style over substance
Insists on masking her inward with outward clothing
Real recognise real,
Her insecurities won't allow her to comprehend how that feels
Stepping as uncomfortably through her life as she does in those ridiculously high heels
Excessive make up is an unsuccessful disguise
Its clear to the world, her self-dissatisfaction is etched in her eyes
There's no mystery to her so the world stares in silence
Reading her efforts that scream louder than ambulance sirens
Sirens, just like her, forgotten as quickly as they disappear
She has no place, she's neither here nor there.
"Real eyes realize real lies" so it all remain oblivious to her.
Desperate not to be the one on the outside looking in
She finds her pleasure walking in another's skin
She feeds on flattery,
Subtle mockery cooked with gullible words dished out on a silver plate
Constantly fishing for compliments
Her industry manufactured exterior serves as bait
Hauling in fake friends that too dwell on optics
Attracting weak men selling romantic antics
She buys into as easily as she does her cosmetics.
Though the lust-filled species she beds seem to pile up in a heap
Words won't be permitted to label her as cheap
She's merely fallen victim to her unrelenting infatuation with the physical Soliciting affection from another that she's denied herself.
But orgasms last longer than love with the superficial.
Who's to tell her beauty should fade, not expire?
Strip her oustides away and there's nothing left to admire.

GALLERY OF BROKEN HEARTS

I'm too invested in this thing called love, I'm constantly in that element
Emotions overwhelm me a little too quickly and compromises my intelligence
Cupid must've missed his shot
I must've been standing in somebody's spot
I'm coming up with excuses why this feeling hurts the innocent.
I stood on the battle field so many times, my armour's torn out
My chest organ's been bludgeoned, honestly I'm worn out
Prayers capture that desperate pursuit of happiness
Yet my actions reveal my unwillingness to clean up this beautiful mess
I don't feel at home here, maybe I should just storm out.
What's left of me is outraged
My every being is ready to declare war
Angry voices in my head screaming that I should fight
But now I'm uncertain of what to fight for.
Sentiments run deep, blood flows fiercely through my veins
As I stare hopelessly at my heart's remains

Reflections in the mirror draws out a scarred woman

Frustrations starting to set in, everyday I feel less human.

The canvas is splattered with thickness of red

Oozed out of my body like I slept with thorns in my bed

Pain, hurt and anger displayed underneath these clothes and smile like a work of art

I may just as well be another show piece in the gallery of broken hearts.