The Torture of My Soul
(A simple poem dedicated to many)
Forgive me as my soul does have
A melancholy tone,
But this bitter world
Gets even darker
When you’re forced to cry alone—
And I can only walk through life
On a distant, wayward road…
And hope someone will understand
The footsteps of my soul.
I travel down a darkened path
Of a tear’s old weary street
And see my peace as broken glass,
As fear with stomping feet
Begins to make a dreadful noise
As sorrow beats its drums—
The haunting voice of trembling doubt
Slowly begins to hum…
slowly
slowly
Taunting me
With cruelty so cold
slowly
slowly
Playing still—
The rhythm of my soul…
The shadows with a stubborn stench
Of grave like fumes of pain
Hold the burn of heartache’s poison
And pierce me with their fangs.
My veins are heavy with the flow,
My plea is, “HELP ME PLEASE!”
I cannot bear the agony
So I fall down on my knees.
I scream the sound of misery
For that’s the story
That has been told,
And so the title has been written—
“The Torture of My Soul.”
The story’s told within my eyes,
The tune is in my voice—
My lips, they long to form a smile
My heart wants to rejoice
But the jury
Of vengeful
Sorrow’s court
Says I’m GUILTY in this life!
Therefore,
The judge
Of misery’s seed
Says I’ll have NO LIGHT!
Weeping is the melody
Of a damaged soul like mine;
A battered tune of scattered notes;
The ticking of lost time…
All chiming in to play my song
To tell me of my woes…
To say that I’m a tortured soul
With nothing left to show.
But they don’t know.
And so…
In the fog of disappointment
In the traps set by shame
In the woods of misfortune
Through the graveyard of pain,
Past the thorns of mistakes
Beyond the fire of my dread
Somewhere there is light,
So I’ll march on ahead,
As I’m tortured
And I’m weary,
I’m damaged,
And I’m battered,
My soul may be torn,
My peace may be shattered,
My burdens may be heavy
And I…
I’ll have to crawl
But I’ll get there…to the light.
I’ll make it through it all.
~T.S. Wilkins~
