From those days of catching fireflies,

To the days of seeing how night lies.

Being the one around the center of seven,

Who knew he might be overlooken.

Soon the days turned into a mere trickle,

As the nights lasting for hours made him feeble.

As the stars passed by felt so much without any lace,

Thus the creation of a treasure chest took place.

Not really the trea...

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A sheltered soul is not soulful.

He’s hidden with worry and exhaustion.

Because the thought of pursuing is tiring,

Is damning,

Is embarrassing.

In a space that is too wide

There’s too much interpretation for the open.

So instead he closes himself softly,

Harshly.

He’s never been told.

He’s never been asked.

He’s never known that a sheltered soul is not soulful.

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