Poem #5: Souls As Currency in Reality is never really real.

Souls as Currency

I hover between what is real, and what is not.

My mind seems trapped, forever lost in hauntingly deep thought

For once in my life, I just wish to be

A creature of perfect, simplicity

But instead I choose to thrive, on a diet full of secrets

The shadows bring depth to their words, as i lay listening to their hopes and regrets.

It’s a morbid fascination, collecting the story of souls.

Such a taxing interest, looking for those.

You offer pieces of yourself, in exchange for precious gifts

Never remembering to watch that soul of yours, as the balance slowly shifts.

What happens when you trade to much, and all that’s left inside,

Is a myriad of other people’s essences’? And none left of your own to hide.

Do you become someone new? Or merely act as before?

Or maybe this is why I find myself, withering ever more.

-Whisper