My soul is wretched by the sharp thorn of anguish,
And my heart has been blown to smithereens.
I’m emotionally shattered and filled with much strife.
I’m slowly drowning into the mud of woe and
My soul rants from the mired pit of melancholy.

I’m now a captive in the dark pit of distress,
And as I try to silence the echoes of my ever bruised soul,
As I try to salve the creviced wounds of my nullified spirit
I drown ever deeper into the dungeon of anguish.

When the eyes of my soul were still adjusting to the
Darkness of it’s new home, anguish went on a sudden rampage that
Worsened the crevices of my wounded soul. I looked for something to
Numb the pain, but could not find any, even hope
Had fled to the land of no return.
And no matter how much I screamed, my voice was unheard,
And slowly my soul corroded.

No matter how loud my voice was, no one could hear me.
No matter how far long I stretched my hands towards freedom,
It was too far to reach, hence my soul is still trapped in the
Dungeon of sorrow, whose walls are cemented by woe.
Still in the mud of anguish my soul is mired,
And for liberation, it continues to yearn.