you had a strong grip on atheism
and told me people didn’t have a soul
but I’m quite sure you’ve stolen mine

you rubbed off the muscle around my ribcage
like it was the end of a pencil; an eraser
I am no longer here to clean up your mistakes

I am scattered
along the carpet and along the tables
I am scattered

my heart is shredded and brushed off
your jeans onto white tile floor
leaving a trail of purple red blood
just visible enough for you to follow me home
and finish the job; again you take my soul
or at least what’s left of it

it’s been two years
and still you have yet to give back my soul
is it just to prove your theory?
does that make me your lab rat
does that mean that I was used

maybe you’ll win the nobel prize
when you present me to the world
huge lit headlines screaming
GIRL BORN WITHOUT A SOUL
little will the people know
my soul was stolen long ago