I used to have a soul but the again, I might be wrong.
I might have confused it with something else I wanted, maybe less, maybe more.
I believe I had a soul, not so long ago.
I now believe - no more.
I sink and shift towards despair, holding for dear life.
I have my memories of a soul, but they do not suffice.
I dream of a soul to call my own, but then again, I could be mistaken.
I wished upon a soul, but I could be mislead.
For I don't know, what a soul desires.
Surely not my lack of place to give him or her, do souls have preference?
Mistaken, I was, thinking I had a soul.
What of a soul, you asked, bitterly, wondering why it's important?
Important, I feel, is to have some thoughts of souls, maybe not a soul itself.
But then again, what came first, the thought or the soul itself?