What does your soul look like anyway?
I think mine looks like the marsh
at the edge of the Bay
Whose waters run through my soul
from generations
and generations
and generations ago.
Only instead of the aquamarine
reflection of the sky
It's squishy murky brown-
tinted by red-tide
and choked with trash
discarded through the years
Is this a healthy place for life to thrive?
Who's to say
But probably long enough to think
everything is doing okay
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