By Abrahim Harb
Dear your lost soul,
let me help you,
and your dear old soul.
snap back, back
I still hear the echo, echo
come back, back
I still hear the echo, echo
of your lost soul, soul
Screaming,
Yelling,
Pleading,
"help me!“
"I'm begging.“
And what did he do?
abandon it. leave it alone,
and stranded.
tucked away in the shadow.
hidden, almost blending in.
all that is left, a skeleton
of a ignorant,
soulless person.
As the days grew it became angrier,
and that fatal day arrived
his soul came with vengeance and anger.
And that is how Tom,
brought upon himself his own death.
So listen up my dear old reader,
don't ignore that little voice—
tick—
of your dear old soul
or your dear old soul will turn on you,
then you will be gone—
tick—
just like my dear Tom.
a dear good ole soul—
tick—
silenced-
out for revenge.
But as for my dear Tom,
i tried to tell you,
tick—
but please do forgive.
tock—
your soul beat me, to the punch.
So when you hear the echo, echo
of your soul dear ole soul, soul
my dear reader I beg of you, you
save your dear old soul, soul
or else…
* This is the first poem I wrote (2-13-08).