The debt

It's only a bit of soul
you let free in the wild,
to live all your dreams
die for a few, may be
feed on toxins, sweet and sour

it's only that teeny bit
you could well afford it,
lose it in the dark alley,
turn your back on it,
pretend it's not yours

but it sits there yonder,
with bloodshot eyes,
feeding on your neglect,
never to rest,
shrieking the most,
on the quietest of nights
haunting you now, then, and forever