Wondering

am I the only one who wonders how my soul looks?
most would say it is black and withered, a dead thing,
much like my heart
i would say it is much more tarnished than so

how would my soul look in the day?
a gleaming thing, but not with light
shining with the mists of misfortune and mistrust
a battered thing, of blooming bruises,
a hurt as unremembered
as coiling nightmares lingering just barely under my living flesh

how would my soul look in the dark?
most would say it matched its surrounding shadows
dark and blurred and nearly unseen
though it is through my own folly that it has withered away,
i still wish for it to brighten

my young soul could still be as lustred as gold or silver
so far beneath the spells and corpses clinging to it
i wish most would recognize this glimmer of hope
even if my soul itself has fallen and buried in place of those who arise by my hands.