He was a preacher long ago,
punished by those in the
small, diseased town,
for his selfishness
and lack of Faith.

His very soul was ripped
from his struggling form,
cursed to walk through
this life
without a soul,

thus, his new purpose
then became to
steal and collect
the souls of others,
and quite the collection
he had.

The soul last collected,
as was once told to me,
was the soul of a
young girl,
to young to die,
to young to fly.

Her soul was snatched
from her,
through no will
of her own,
just like the others.

The grieving mother
gathered her up and
held her body tightly,
as only a true mother can.

Suddenly
the little body stirred.
First a little finger,
then a hand,
then her eyes opened,

but
the soul looking up
at the mother through
those knowing eyes
was not that of her daughter,
as she proved when she began
to hum a tune,
a tune previously hummed
by another.

Souls cling to life
in a way the common
man cannot understand.

The child’s mother,
upon reaching the
realization that this soul
was not in fact
her daughter’s,
simply held her little
body closer,
as only a loving mother
can.

She didn’t care
who now lived
inside her girl

for all that mattered
was,
she had her ‘daughter’ back.



-by Mercurychyld
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