A soul of iron, forged with cold.
Never tempered in the kiln.
Never tested before it use, it was given to a body
Flawed.
It cannot stand alone, trust is impossible
For it will fail and break when the trial comes.
A soul of lesser material would have been more desirable, for it would not be
Flawed.
Full of mistakes, it should have been destroyed,
The body destroyed and recycled anew.
No one should have to know someone who is so
Flawed.
This iron soul, with its hidden fault,
Is locked inside its frail mortal shell.
It wishes to escape and cease existence, because it is so
Flawed.
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Comments
I like how its a contrast.
The solid soul, but the weak flesh. Very nice.
And I'm sure that I'll get another meaning when I'm in a gloomy mood.
That makes it a great poem.
--
"People have hope because they can't see Death standing behind them."--Bleach
~WhenTheCutGoesInDeep--Self-Injury support group. Friends helping Friends
--
I am the Sabre of Quiet Reflection.
"Not even a samadh in your honor." ~ Capt. Armand Pahner, IMC.
Nevertheless, it's obvious that flesh is inferior to metal, and that's what hit me.
I guess.
See, I told you I'd get something different when I'm gloomy.
I'll reread it tomorrow at work (which always makes me gloomy) and letcha know then.
--
"People have hope because they can't see Death standing behind them."--Bleach
~WhenTheCutGoesInDeep--Self-Injury support group. Friends helping Friends
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