From ... The Book of Pilar Grace
Dear Black Book,
I’m going to write you a poem about broken souls. I know I’m not a poet, but the people I met on this damn boat are more tortured inside than I am. They have no heart. I don’t think I’m going to live much longer, so I hope you like what I write for you. This may be my last writing, Black Book. I loved you being here with me, so here it is.
The Bitter End for a Broken Soul
I watch them lay near me and my mind is so worn
In tailored suits, their souls are tattered and torn
I feel the pain inside my heart and the hurts that make me cold
My body aches until the bitter end for all the broken souls
Humans like me walking like a mama monkey carrying her dead baby
Not knowing it's dead, hanging on to its lifeless body
Broken souls do the same, lost in a sea of despair to the bitter end
Hanging on to their addiction of choice... sex, drugs, alcohol, food... Looking for a friend
Searching for a path to paradise
Their minds filled with filth, and me with self-mutilated scars from emotional hurt
Pain that stems so deep from neglected and loveless lives full of dirt
Minds tortured by sexual inhumanities and so many indecent acts
They keep walking like the mama monkey but they're the dead baby in fact
I'm the dead baby!
With not much help for the mind of the many broken souls
Some get lucky and fate works in their favor and they feel whole
They find peace inside and let the dead baby monkey go
After finding a new pathway to their own paradise...they grow
In the bitter end, I feel I've lost my paradise!
The end.
Help me Black Book.
I'm only 13, and I'm giving up all hope.
Pilar Grace
Maybe you can rewrite the phrase in a soulful way. Overall, it is a deep and wonderful poem.