The soul is missed by me dearly.
It contained within it, simultaneously,
spark, spirit, care, and glimmer.
Lit by an inestimable null.
The escape of which I now suffer.
Is a daily sick.
Of waking up with shuddered groan.
I miss the soul when it had chance.
Even if my end were purgatory.
I'll take the grey to the decisive ends.
Focused edge where bright meets blurry.
poor decisions early ruin a lot later on
wish i learned how to cope instead of how to stop, drop, and roll