Shapes of a lost Soul

The Soul, curving and smooth,
Its endless bend, across that skin it would sooth,
Weaving in and out, round and round,
No hurt or pain there could be found,
This circle was once a dream,
Though now this shape will never be redeemed

The soul develops, jagged lines appear,
As the carrier's life becomes less clear,
It becomes like a block, tough and hard,
The heart of this soul, affected and scarred,
This square was harder to pass,
The contents of her heart, like broken glass.

The soul continues to shatter, piece by piece,
Suddenly points and jagged edges appear, no more release,
Intricate and beautiful was the heart from within,
But now the soul felt the breaking down begin,
Triangles materialize, intimidating and razor-sharp,
The music only echoes the sweetness of the harp.

Suddenly the soul splits in two,
Things were finally over, through and through,
The soul could not cure; the breaks were too great.
The girl had been waiting, at long last came the dreaded fate,
The serrated and toothed streaks of the broken vow,
For something to create this pain she did not know how.

Lonely, frightened and spinning like a top,
She screamed and cried for this pain to stop,
Those lines would never fade,
As sharp as razors, as sharp as the blade.

This soul is now broken, there is no relief,
All there is now, is the long awaited grief.