On the Death of the Soul

Oh how easily you give up your life for comfort

How easily you accept the death of your self for a fraction of peace

Did you think you’d be better off?

Did you think that your pain would go away?

Some of it would

Some of it would stay and pester a festering hole in your side

Oh how desperately you begged for your ending

Sad how you never realized you can’t escape your failures

None of us can

There are many ways of killing ourselves

Living is not a remedy

Life is not a disease

Accepting your fate is not an admission of guilt

Or failure

It’s a method of correction

It’s not take it or leave it

It’s take it or break it

Break it into something new

Make it into something your own

That you could never own

That you could never love

That you could never save

That you could never know

Something

And yours forever