Dear Poem,

    We talk everyday, you know me by many names. But we are beyond names. You know me as a person. You understand me and when I am in need of guidance you are  quick to point out my flaws and lead me back to the straight and narrow. You never let me forget. Sometimes I may have turned a blind eye to you for this simple fact but in the end I realize the importance of remembering.

     You are intelligent, you grow with me. But always a few steps ahead. You drive me farther with every dialogue that's shared between us. As if to coach me along in life and say, "life is not a box of chocolates but the bond that the box of chocolates represents" you say things that bring revelations that change my life. I love hurt feel pain and happiness everyday and you are there to take in all the pressures I have built up.

     I have no doubt that the pen in my hand and the paper beneath my palm is only the effect, caused by our interaction. It's this interaction that I am eternally grateful for. And for as long as you are there for me, I will be there for you. And you will not fade away.

      With love,
      Me.

You don't lead sheep by teaching them how to read and write.
You lead sheep by making them feel insecure about themselves and their own decisions so they look to you for guidance.

I want to go back home.
we live in boxes.
We stare at boxes.
We exit boxes get into moving boxes that deliver us to a different box.
Where we ship boxes.
We look through windows as if they were paintings.
I've been in a box whose windows literally were paintings.
We **** ourselves over pieces of paper.
Even the precious metals are overlooked for this paper.
My body hurts,
I'm confused.
It's like I'm lost in my own box
And I want to go back home.