Soul

I share pieces of my soul.
And in them
I find peace.
And in them
I find pain.
For pieces of my soul are a discovery,
and I can scream about my discovery,
or I can sit on it quietly.
Some discoveries bring peace.
Others bring pain.
Both entice a waterfall of memory, of words.
But the words too often struggle to drip.
They cling to my soul.
And I struggle.
I share pieces of my soul,
but do I want them?
Should you?