My soul

If my soul was never stolen, 
Then why does commitment seem
Like a complete error? 
If my soul was never stolen, 
Then why do I feel nothing
But panic? 
Day by night, 
And sorrow becomes dread, 
For not over are things, 
But more broken then ever.
If my soul was never stolen, 
Then whose eyes am I looking into? 
For they were clear once, 
But today they're just painful
Wince with a glance, 
Cringe with a glance, 
Because so be the rest of my life.
Neither depressive nor bipolar, 
Then the words do nothing but heal.
I thought today would be just fine, 
But apparently commitment
Is such an effort.