Years ago, I fell in love with poetry. It made so much sense... Now, years after opting for prose instead, I am giving it another chance. I am not following rules - I am simply writing. This is my first attempt in quite a while. The topic was not motivated by any particular experience.
When my soul died
I fell to my soiled knees and like a lost soul I just wept
My modest power was wobbly, no longer kept
In my heart, frustration had come and slept
When my soil died
All of life’s elements had turned their backs on me
Distressing feelings found a home in me
Life was an alias for burden, for goodness I could not see
When my soil died
My cries were muted long before I could even exhale
Tear after tear, a mind of victory could not prevail
The devil was at peace, for I uttered the word fail
When my soil died
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