Three Trapped Souls (Poetry)

The artifact was created
Over a millennia ago,
When an ancient sorcerer
Was doing experiments
He realized that he needed
The souls of three young girls
Once the artifact absorbed them,
As long as he touched the thing,
The powerful, imbued magic
Would make him feel like a king

The artifact was crafted,
And it remains stored there,
In an abandoned warehouse
Hidden from the world
The artifact has the shape
Of an ancient, intricate box

The girl who was murdered
Was only twelve years old,
Her name was Daphne
She loved to play the piano,
And she played it so well
That her father, a famous musician,
Hired a band to accompany her
When her parents entered their apartment
On that fateful day,
Her bedroom was bloodied and gory
Daphne’s body lay on the floor
And her heart had stopped beating
Her murderers had long fled
No one knew their identity
Except for Daphne herself,
Who dreamt of becoming a pianist

The girl who drowned
Was only thirteen years old,
Her name was Julia
She loved to swim in the sea,
But on that fateful day,
No one heard her cries
The waves were too high
Her mother’s tears turned to ice
As she watched her daughter
Drown in the raging tide,
Then she drowned as well
In the depths of the blue

The girl who was trampled
Was only seven years old,
Her name was Eudocia
She was the daughter of a soldier
Who fought for the Roman Empire
In the streets of Alexandria,
On that fateful day,
Eudocia was trampled by a chariot
Her body was covered in bruises,
Her bones were crushed and broken,
Her eyes were filled with tears
Eudocia’s father cried,
Then took her body home,
Where he hanged himself

Each soul became trapped,
Along with the other two,
In the artifact that held them all,
Stored in the hidden warehouse
It took a team of parapsychologists
A large number of ouija board sessions
To figure out this information
I just told you

The girls’ faces, their names,
On the sides of the box are engraved
Hold the artifact in your hands
If you’re feeling down,
If you want to cheer up
You’ll never be the same again
There’s no better way to feel happy
Than by touching this ancient box
If only that cursed thing
Was available in stores,
You’d always know what to do
On a lonely day

‘Three Trapped Souls’ by Jon Ureña

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