my soul cries

the stillness of the night comes

but the rage inside continues to hum
like a subway train runnning along crooked metal tracks
at 100 miles per hour.

the body wants to rest
but its soul is keeping it alive.

the wheels unceasingly run along the tracks,
never stopping for a breath's time.

the body struggles to hurdle the cries of the soul.
the body pains. the body cries. the body responds.

it looks for a way to cork and silence the whines of the hurting soul.

the body looked for sharpness around.
and it saw. yes, it saw. and it felt;
and let the soul feel that sharpness.
the taste of metal against skin.
the taste of blood against metal.

the speeding train halts
but the impact follows through
in a resounding screech of metal against metal,
a defeaning cry of wheels scratching against a stronger surface.

the body wins as it slowly fell.

the soul loses as it cries.

the soul cried.