Depleted Poem by Danny Velasquez

I was thinking about
the human soul.
When it aches, how
can you measure the pain?

By what standard
or what baseline do
you make a comparison?
Do you count tears
or weigh exasperated sighs?
At least when you fracture
a bone or scrape
away flesh, not only
do you feel pain,
you see the injury.
But when
your soul aches
you cannot see the hurt
or gauge the pain. In fact
you cannot prove that
it even exists. And
when you try
to describe what
it is that you feel–
how dullness blankets
your soul with apathy
and fatigue, promoting rogue
emotions while short-circuit
sensations stab through your
muscles, tendons and nerves;
a despondent sorrow envelops
your mind paralyzing your soul
as you desperately fight
to hold back the tears–
leaving you to wonder
if you are crazy.

Oh, if someone only knew
how you feel.
But then
can anyone know?