It's calling me. In silent whispers that flow with the wind. In the music that beats in my heart. In the words that speaks lies. I close my eyes and it takes me back to the past. The wrongs, the stupids, the childish things I have done. It shows no good. It shows no pleasure, no joy, the light had faded. An empty shell the crys for the warmth of a soul. A pure bright loving soul. The soul made of innocents and good. The empty shell who sees what should have been shut away. Locked with a key and spelled with kind words. This empty shell saw heard felt what no one should. As young as the shell may look it's far older. No matter the pain. No matter what it wants Others come first. Yet after it's all said and done. This shell feels no different.  Looking in the world for salvation it finds none. It bends it breaks then shies away. Fading away after time never being noticed. Till needed again. For whatever good or ***** deed asked of the shell. It's just a shell. What else could it be used for. Lost. Searching for them. The ones it fits in with. Backing into a corner falling back and giving up. The shell screams in agony sorrow. The space screams back at the shell in an echo. All through the shell was not just a shell. The shell was a girl. The girl was broken, hurt, feeling alone, and once a week would say “I'm evil”. The girl was not just a girl. She was a girl who belonged noWhere but one place. with the empty. The shameful.  But the shameful were so much more. They were the broken inside her. They were the loneliness inside her. They were the sinner and beggars. The shut out and banished. The shameful is the girl. Who stands before you all today. Still looking. Still searching. Begging for the salvation she never got at the beginning. Looking upon her. She sees. She knows. Whatever it is she needs. It's there. For the asking.