An unworthy soul....

My inner self, my soul was misbehaving that day,
not being body friendly, wanting to escape, to go.
It didn't like the daily grind, the commute to work,
felt rebellious and used, was discontent and bored.

It was, in fact, a very disobedient, unworthy soul,
a fractious, most ungrateful, mutinous soul,
a nasty, moody, inconsiderate monster of a soul
that wasn't worth cajoling, or placating,
that wasn't worth humouring or coaxing
or buttering up or sweet talking, to.

No, I didn't want to save my soul
so I stopped a passing devil
and craftily, most cannily sold it to him,
not wishing to save the little bastard at all.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!