I have an old soul,
That's what they've always said.
As a kid I took the compliment and wore it with pride,
Mature, quiet, sometimes bold, all things, one should strive to be.
But oh, how I misunderstood
Only now do I realize, that it wasn't an accolade, but rather a warning.
They just knew,
I was always doomed to be a little bit sad.
I cried many tears as a child,
And silently more as a teen.
As an adult the tears a few, but the weight is heavy.
Though the burden I carry, is no longer my own.
In my hands I carry the weight of all the lonely things, we've created to disown.
Books without creases; Planes without grime,
Where are the signs that they have been used?
The signs that tell us they were loved?
What's the point of spending your life on a piano grand,
If it's only to look at, and never to touch?
On my keys is a key chain, disfigured and maimed.
Broken and lonely because I bought it that way.
I bought it because I was afraid it would never know love like the others on the rack.
The teddy bear with rips, the porcelain doll with no feet and even the outdated encyclopedia, that needs four shelves of space.
I hold them all dear to me,
And have wept silently at the thought of their loss.
I'll protect them forever in the cage around my heart
And I'll build them house of memories with the love from my old, sad soul.
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 1:35 AM UTC
I have an old soul,
That's what they've always said.
As a kid I took the compliment and wore it with pride,
Mature, quiet, sometimes bold, all things, one should strive to be.
But oh, how I misunderstood
Only now do I realize, that it wasn't an accolade, but rather a warning.
They just knew,
I was always doomed to be a little bit sad.
I cried many tears as a child,
And silently more as a teen.
As an adult the tears a few, but the weight is heavy.
Though the burden I carry, is no longer my own.
In my hands I carry the weight of all the lonely things, we've created to disown.
Books without creases; Planes without grime,
Where are the signs that they have been used?
The signs that tell us they were loved?
What's the point of spending your life on a piano grand,
If it's only to look at, and never to touch?
On my keys is a key chain, disfigured and maimed.
Broken and lonely because I bought it that way.
I bought it because I was afraid it would never know love like the others on the rack.
The teddy bear with rips, the porcelain doll with no feet and even the outdated encyclopedia, that needs four shelves of space.
I hold them all dear to me,
And have wept silently at the thought of their loss.
I'll protect them forever in the cage around my heart
And I'll build them house of memories with the love from my old, sad soul.
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