Souls Have No Pattern. Poem by Kane Jordison

You want to see my soul
but tell me this my dear.
How in the world can you see,
what I cannot even feel?

I suppose I could jot down some dark adjectives.
A bamboozling word or two.
I could flip out a dark dreary stanza
filled with hate, grudges and non rhyming, non rhythmical mythical, magical, mediocrity.

Still can't see my soul?
No I figured not.
Lets try some rhyming.
See if we can hit that sweet spot.

'Swirling darkness surrounds my void.'
Please. No it doesn't.
Hog wash.
Pish posh.
Hang it out to dry,
Seen a dozen like that!
Thousands if I keep reading by tonight.

Did I just break stanza? Gasp! Shame you say.
You asked to see my soul, who says it has a patterned way?
Who says it rhymes or beats to the same drum others do.
Who says it even exists? Not I. Not you.

Scattered, splattered, smeared with smut.
Can you see it now? Reread, in between attitude filled lines.
It's there. It was from the start.
Poetry? Maybe not. But my can you see my soul?