A petit soul

Inside the eyes of wisdom,
I found a little box,
It told me no one could ever replace me,
I asked what it meant?
It answered with a twisted face.
Later on that day,
A girl walked through my face
Asking if someone could repair
That one soul on despair
The box told her we were empty,
We ran out of stock it said,
As it grabbed my only hope
Of seeing the girl walk out with a soul.
We ran out of stock?
I asked confused with those words,
We are a market of none,
But a box for all,
They come and go,
More empty than before,
All looking for the same one old soul.
Is it me that’s hallucinating?
I hesitated once more,
Oh dear no, the box moaned
You are all inside me,
I digest, swallow, and shape you,
As my walls desire,
But please don’t be scared,
At the end you are no different from that one girl.

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