The Old Soul

Today’s inspiration for this poem comes from a lyric that I came across whilst listening to music, it simply asked “what is Juliet if she never found her Romeo” and it honestly enthralled me. Taking this concept in mind I decided to write it from an old soul’s perspective, an old soul that never got to know his Juliet. The reason for focusing on the old soul was to be able to both paint a descriptive picture that would not only set the scene, but lead slowly towards the unexpected reveal of who the old soul actually is.

I had been feeling quite low these last couple of days, such is life when you suffer from depression. The dark emotions and moods that depression brings have been quite useful for me in this situation however, as it has allowed me to be able to develop this concept and draw upon these feelings to hopefully give both an emotive and descriptive tale about the old soul. I hope you all enjoy it.

Until next time,
The Raven

The Old Soul

In a darkened and damp room, every so dreary,
Sits a weakened, old soul, anguished and weary,
Plagued by emotions of anguish and disdain,
Counting the moments until the voices drive him insane,
Lost with these four walls, and tied to a metal chain,
Silently praying for an end to the agonising pain,
Relief comes not however, and he pulls on the chains once more,
Yet nothing happens, similar to the many times he had tried before,
The old soul’s eyes were as dark as the bottomless abyss,
Even one who had witnessed true darkness had never seen eyes such as this…

The old soul was trapped in this ancient and medieval cell,
For centuries he had been stuck in his own personal hell,
Rejected by the darkness and ignored by the light,
No manner for him to escape his eternal plight,
His supplications and screams remain unheard,
Desperate ramblings becoming an unintelligible word,
In his isolation and suffering he hopelessly remains,
Looking solemnly at centuries old blood stains…

Once as a man, Romeo had dreamt of finding his Juliet,
Yet the only thing he had found was constant regret,
Enslaved by his own insecurities, fear and doubt,
He never did express his love, so fervent and devout,
And so he became the greatest love story never told,
Instead of dying young, he lived to be ancient and old,
Forever condemned by the chaos and torment within,
A product of his own merciless and cowardly sin,
Fleeting and lapsing memories are now all that remain,
Juliet is now a torment, an image inside the old soul’s brain…
And so he mourns for that which did not grow,
Wails for the love that he did not know,
Forever stuck within a state of perpetual androgyny,
Driven to madness by images of his unborn progeny,
In life, words he did not utter, the seed he did not sow,
Eternally tormented by the love he did not know,
In an ancient and medieval cell, Romeo does sit,
Losing the last remaining shred of his once sharp wit,
Lowering his head, he whispers out one last word of regret,
A word he wishes he had uttered centuries before, Juliet…

Written by The Raven –  07/02/2017 ©

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