His soul

July 1, 2010
By Anonymous

His soul; a furnace…
Fueled by those and that around him,
burning, bright as a sun, by day.
But by night, with no fuel to burn
His soul cools, and cools
He can do nothing to stop it
He can only watch as the fire dwindles
Until it’s merely a flicker of what it had been.
He dreads every moment,
He must decide;
Loose the spark of his humanity,
In a brilliant supernova; of awe inspiring insanity
Or throw himself into his furnace of animation,
And feed the fiery inferno of his own soul

The author's comments:
I wrote this for my friend, who has been suffering from depression for a few years now, and basically I wanted to know if it was good enough to show him, that I know how he feels, and I want to help.

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