My soul is in surgery.
Tattered pieces are currently being sewn together.
Needles, of diamonds.
Stitched, with Ivory.
Repainted. With shades of ichor.
None but the gods have the power to save what little of it remains.
Their hands, claw deep into my being and it pains,
Once they are through,
It will be as good as new.

My soul needs beautifying.
Lavished with Koi ponds,
To replace the craters.
Polished with Orchids,
To replace the dead roses.
I somehow trust that someday
It will regain its glory.
And that the world will see it smile again.
It no longer wants to be in ruins.