The Burned and the Broken

The universe is everything, outside of what my broken soul can feel.

The soul feels like a blasting furnace, burning bright, loud, and blazing.

I can still feel this though.

If I try and reach far enough.

And it feels like that day when-

…I don't remember when.

I remember a feeling like my soul was burned into stone hard coal, like a light blew out, like a fragile glass that had shattered.

The inside of my heart was filled with ash, though out of sight from others.

It felt almost like this I think, for my memory has gone short.

The feeling wasn't as pleasant though, it first felt like the ends of my strings have been cut by a being above, of great power.

This being felt something too, it was warm and kind, yet full of sorrow.

An ideal feeling, a soft one.

But that doesn't matter now, for now I feel more grace.

This world no longer held my broken soul.

Though it should have taken more time.

I can now see what happened that day since I did reach far enough.

When I saw it, I had a strong feeling.

The peace remained, yet partially clouded by anger, that didn't go out.

The reflection of what became my fate blocked my sight as well.

The world had felt something, for It must, yet that feeling wasn't sorrow.

The feeling was something horrible, something sick, as the ends and fragments of my peace were slowly lessening.

Of the little I had, I tried to remain as I was, a kind being, A peaceful entity. And...

it was all going away.

They tried to calm me any way they found ideal, but my peace has dispersed, as has my dignity and grace.