You know you have a soul.

You either feel it or you’ve muzzled it, but to muzzle it, you had to have felt it.

So either way; we’re all in the same room.

We all have souls, and all souls whisper.

The soul whispers to us as it does to a blade of grass.

Grow.

Become that which rests inside you.

But growth is violent.

Seeds rupture.

Wombs contract.

Throats scream, eyes weep.

Blood and shit and piss mix.