I often look across my skin
for a cut or bruise,
a scratch paper thin,
just for a glimpse,
of the pain within.

Everyone's scars seem laid bare,
others helping them with care,
the pain I feel
seems all but real,
cause no one reaches,
no one tries,
to see the hurt
behind my eyes.

Think about all the souls
There are
Existence and not
Non existent most powerful
Cannot see
Their power
Will my soul tell the tale ?
That evolution is linked to revolution .
To keep the mind strong
Not weak
Social media is
Blocking out Gods hands for is us mold
Into better original selfs?
Invisible magic get sprinkled into.?
Where the unknown is found
Ancient history is uncovered?
My own soul that lingers deep inside me
Does it get vaccumed up?
Does it have a sweet citrus smell
Or does it remind me
Of when my soul
Was almost taken by the devil himself?