Poem: Soul

I am the self-consumer of my woes
The bed of my depression
I am the heart of a life that beats
The seat of my regression
I am the hope that burns within
The heat of my transgression
I am the demon that tempts me still
The soul of my oppression
I am the man that will not give in
The hope of my suppression
I am the hands of peaceful fate
The well of my aggression
I am the smile on a face with tears
The deceit of my expression
I am the sin of empty thoughts
The redeemer of my confession
I am the clock of future years
The focus of my progression
I am the whole of a living soul
The core of my possession.

Author: seagullnic

Writer, editor, lecturer and part-time musician. Passions in life: my family, Bob Dylan, music of many genres, Brighton and Hove Albion FC, cooking plus good food and wine.

2 thoughts on “Poem: Soul”

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