Borne and created of darkness;
The essence of the soul is little,
And to that there are many,
Who may see it quite brittle.
But the soul is not all it appears:
While it may be small and weak,
It can be the greatest danger,
For those with a stubborn streak,
No soul is pure innocence,
Nor is it evil or spite,
Many a soul is haunted,
Yet all are strong and with fight,
It is of recurring darkness and hate,
And of unstoppable light and love,
These are the emotions our souls hide,
They are what our souls are truly of,
The soul is our strongest weapon,
And our weakest of tools,
It is a weapon that in other hands,
Is the only weapon of the fools.
As we hunt for the truth,
Our souls begin to fade,
As they begin to be severed,
By the everlasting undying blade,
Everything fades to black,
Red blood smears on the wall,
As yet another soul's body,
Has come to its fall,
Some souls are doomed;
To forever haunt their death place,
While others are free,
And dreams they shall chase.
Many wish for their souls to be free,
To travel the world without a care,
To see the dreams they once lost,
To be free as a bird, soaring in the air,
But this reward is not for all;
Only for the true of heart,
For the other souls,
Will be ripped apart,
So now it is your choice:
Where will you go?
What will you chose?
Shall you be to or fro?
Will you be free to roam,
This earth like a bird,
Or shall your cries,
Forever be unheard?
This is your chance,
Take it and use it,
Because if it is ruined,
Your chances are split.
Heed this warning,
Forever and the rest of your life,
And if you don't,
Your chances will turn too strife.
Do not let this life pass by;
Savor it until the day you are no more,
Because if you don't,
It will haunt you as never before.
A/N:
Just a random thing I whipped up in my spare time for a school contest, decided it fit the situation and chose to post it. ;