Clinch

I am trying to find the

soul. The lost soul

I'd like to call my own.

 

Nails chipped black, those

nails gripping

and incise

the feelings we all

wished to have, hidden-

 

With you all is epitomized.

 

With me the find

is never there- I'd become lost

gone, depleted, exhausted

of what my brain needs to be.