Poetry

The Lost

“My soul is like a lifeless and barren land. Lost, like a faint memory from ages ago.”

My soul is like a lifeless and barren land. Lost, like a relic of the past. Lost, like a faint memory from ages ago. Do you feel it too? Can you feel the cold beneath your fingertips? The way my heart skips a beat in panic. Do you see the pain that lingers in my eyes? The way they try to hide. Do you hear the destruction I’ve left in my wake? Even though I’ve tried to make this world beautiful once more. What about the pain that echoes in my voice? The hurt and regret, the lost innocence and the desperate need to reclaim something that’s good and pure. Can you smell the smoke? The ruins of a heart broken way too many times. The fragments of my soul that cling to life. I want to ask if you think there’s any hope to restore what was lost, but I don’t know if I could bear the answer.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Everything will be okay.
You have to hold the hope tight.

1 thought on “The Lost”

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