Stained Soul

Blurred vision, Shaking nerves. Innocence on the brink of oblivion, Hatred sinks into my flesh With serrated claws. Who could want this to be my experience? Remourse is nothing here but a knife that rips apart my soul. Tears stain the soft-blue fabric of my iris, I fear that these internal cries may never come to light. Somehow, With my stained soul, My tainted soul, A flower blooms; Putrid scent With beautiful petals, But those that matter care not for flaw; Imperfect perfection is their perception of me. To live is to learn, But to experience pain is to know truth; Love always finds its way inside. Healing emotional wounds with soothing tongues and hopeful embraces, I find myself again.