Depth

The darkest depth of my soul has become sick. An illness hollowed and rotting from inside out and upside down and through my mind and past my eyes and into yours. I've infected you. Teeth grinding, tongues clattering, lips oozing. You can't save a soul that's been slaved, bought, sold. You can't be a Saint. Not even a Mother Teresa's child. You can't save me with a kiss. You can't save the darkest depth of my soul with a glowing halo, a neon fight, a mouthful of pride's smile. You can't save my soul.