Strange place, strange ways, each stay away!
Then why are there two roads to take?

The maps and paths, and followed tracks.
And Google, Waze, we trust their facts.
Turn left, turn right we let it steer.
To miss a turn, we start to fear.

Across to tolls, collect control.
Like little soldiers, do as told.
Planned flights and crowds, comfort in traps.
Are we confined in our skin wraps?

Some lost, pretend to just be found.
Some found, act lost, pretty profound.
To take that step, the unprotected.
To turn towards, the unexpected.
A wasteful plan, we must forget it.
Insane repeat, and do we test it?

Misdirection, to find us love.
Misdirection, to find us trends.
Misdirection, finds ideas.
Misdirection, to find us friends.
Misdirection to free in stress.
Misdirection leaves no regrets.

Let one misdirection find you.
Let one misdirection guide you.
Let one misdirection define
And be the reason, you are you.

The broken man can not feel,
no, the broken man can not heal.
The broken man creates a child,
and leaves it defenseless in the wild.

The broken man does not care,
no, the broken man is never there.
The broken man is built to roam,
after he destroys your home.
He'll put your life upon a shelf,
yes, the broken man only loves himself.
The broken man has no voice,
ignoring common sense with every choice.

It's his world, it's his life,
you've been hurled, for his wife.
It's his plan, it's his goals,
the broken man leaves broken souls.

The broken man just lives for fun,
he believes he is the only one.
The broken man is always dazed,
and believes his family is not phased.
The broken man cares much for wealth,
but still he only loves himself.
The broken man is my father,
and I don't wish to be a broken daughter.

It's his world, it's his life,
he’s got pearl, I’ve got strife.
It's his clan, filled by holes,
the broken man leaves broken souls.

The broken man does not feel,
no, the broken man will always steal.
The broken man creates a child,
and the broken man has never smiled.
The broken man cares not for health,
but he'll always only love himself.
The broken man is my father,
because of the mother I miss; he forgot her.

It's his world, it's his life,
you've been hurled, for his wife.
It's his plan, it's his goals,
the broken man leaves broken souls.

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

Dying love in a gilded cage,
Imprisoned by my pent up rage.
You never loved me, but neither did I,
The last gift you gave was the gift of goodbye.

I look at the way raindrops

slide down the glass of

my bedroom windows

and I wonder if they love it

as much as I adore when

your fingertips slide down

my skin almost the same way.

If I were glass and you

were water,

I’d wish for rain everyday.

My words feed from the flesh
that gives them strength, my pain

I let the writer in me die,
suffocated by my joy

In a world of sunshine
still the darkness creeps in

It is so frigid in the shade

When all have turned away
from the lifeless poet,
her fingers twitch at last

Reborn to pour her soul
onto paper with words
whether blissful or wretched

She awakens.

And the more I lied,
about not loving you,
the more it hurt.
But I did it,
for myself.
And every word,
that spilled out my lips,
was like blood,
from an uppercut.
But to tell the truth,
I rather that pain,
than the one I felt that night.
Because that night,
I gave it all,
and you gave it all,
right back.
So I’ll face you,
and our friends each day,
like my heart is,
was,
never sore.
But each day,
it ***** the life from me,
right from my very core.

As bright as a burning flame
Forever generously giving
Salute me with open arms
My beautiful sunflower
Always facing the sun -
I pray you never look down.

Iron and Steel rust and buckle. Stone weathers and is worn away. Mountains crack and crumble into pebbles in a stream. Yet a single strand of hope is stronger than them all. While time can diminish many durable things, it has no affect on hope. Where hope exist in the smallest thread, it can be stronger than all of these and so much more. Hope binds people together and gives a reason to go on. It is a solid foundation that does not weather and can withstand the fiercest storm. So when all other things are faded, hope is a strong thread that can ever remain.