I am not so young anymore,

You can take my memories,

And spread them around the world.

My soul had become jaded,

from over use.

If you were to take it away,

It would stand nude in front of you all.

It is a frail thing,

from battle,

from ache,

from life.

Some would observe the soul,

and admire it for what it was.

A soul.

Some would take my soul,

and cast it to Hell,

rather than sparring it a second glance.

Some would cry,

and gently caress my soul.

For it is damaged.

It is jaded.

My soul is human,

and has its limits.

You can stretch it out,

and see the ache,

the laughter,

of my life.

But you will also see the truth.

I am human,

and I will die.

There are other Jaded souls around me,

three, of whom I care for most.

And while my naked soul,

gets wrapped up,

and finally stowed away,

Their souls,

will be forced to stay.

There is no, "rest" for them after 100 years.

Time that by another 500,

and you'd be closed.

Their souls are more jaded than my own,

they are riddled with holes,

as if moths have eaten their way through.

My soul may be jaded,

But it won't last.

Unlike my friends,

for if you stretch out my memories,

of my past,

you will see,

that they are more jaded,

than me.