Edge Of My Soul Poem by Jeffrey A. Swim

A pain such as death can not compare
to the empty, the nothing, that strips my sole bare.

Sorrow, sadness, self hate deep inside.
The loss, the agony, and tragedy collide.

One cannot care about what is to follow
for it was deemed long ago, the soul would be hollow.

I give, then I burst at the taking and greed
a relentless frenzy, no concern for my need.

The path is familiar, beaten and worn
I pass once again, head low on this body so torn.

Efforts so fruitless, always loss never gain
I continue through murk on the path in the rain.

Distance I desire, away from the hell.
Apparently under an unmovable spell.

Life trickles in drips from the edge of my soul
so I rest to awake, hopefully find myself whole.

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March 1,1995