The Speakingg Soul

 Take away my life  What I am holding If you are not mine  The seed said.... Owner smiled and Patted  Hid it under moist sand. Kept in Warm shady sun  And put a soul to unseen body bun. The seed got a life. But destiny said other time.. The owner Killed the life  Life of fruits. And the roots He ate the heart and soulful part. Nothing was left behind. Now it's your turn ... Hi ...seed  Do you want  A new life?

Hold bruises of pencil, Marks of brush Covered in paint. A silicon layer Telling the story of  her. It's the bruises of time Marks of life Covered with lies  A layer of fake faces. Hidden behind smile. Holding tears. Missing what's lost . white base tinted skin Just like a New piece . Who is the canvas?  Let's Call.... Call her canvas  not just doll.

She is a journal Of unheard desires. Copenhagen garden Layering fires. Tangled knots With anchor bites. You never opened What she hides. She is a diary Of bare lines, Veiling enigmas And cloaked lies. A rugged cover  with tanned pages,  Holds all the worth  The world desires.

 I am a plushie. But I'll lose my bounce  if you touch me. I may be sweet. But I will loose my life  If you taste me. Wondering who I am ? Cotton candy ..... Yes I am hairy  Oh ! heat played it's turn  Melted the sugar Made it fun.

 It's your speech  How can I forget  Little high But like a peach That Creamy  Tangy  Talks  That hid The hard heart behind A cute ,tender  Skin of rose

 Let me check the pot It has a lot To eat  To drink To keep To save Oh no  It's broken Not the pot  But the thought  That you are not gone