The Soul

May I introduce you to the red carpet to my mind.
The incorporeal,
The bodiless,
The immaterial part of my nature.

It is said to be where the happiness resides,
One's actions it inspires.
Troubled, blackened or longing it can be,
And if you're truly unfortunate it can be all three.

Easily bruised and battered it's a fragile thing,
It needs constant love and affection.
Simply beautiful in full swing,
Love of another is the only chance of it's defection.

When bared it is poised on a knife edge,
Your body slipping from a window ledge.
Smoke and mirrors are just the half of it, it's simply not there.
Invisible yet a feeling, like cold dead air.

When the sweat starts to force it's way out and your skin starts to prickle,
Those winged belly creatures churn and insist.
And I'm pretty sure when you see a figure with a hood and a sickle.
The precise moments you know your soul does exist.