The love needed the love wanted
Wanted but never received
Needed to rival the hatred causing insanity
The insanity of love.
Many say that love cannot cause wars
But that loyalty caused them instead
But what causes loyalty?
Is it not but love
Loyalty fed by love causing the warrior's call
But its not a war on the physical field
But on a mental range
Is it the hate for being loved
Or the love for being hated?
For the insanity of hatred
Rivaling love with all it can
The coin flipping through the air
Landing on edge
For the question still remains
Is it the hate for being loved
Or the love for being hated?
By Jayson Foster.

I am not now an emotional being.

But if ever in my dreams,  I was to stumble upon
That girl who wore my face when she was
Ten, twelve, fourteen,
I weep.
Taking her in my arms I try to hush her,
as she claws at her belly and screams at the mirror.
Hating herself, as only an innocent can,
wholly and completely

Blessed am I to dwell where travellers roam,
weary on their aching feet
they sit here, sand between toes, sunburnt scalp and ice-cream hands.

Where lit fires warm content bones, sheltered from storms beyond the panes.
But our storms are never ugly here,
rain dances bout' the cliffs, wind shaking woods, sky full of bruise coloured clouds.

Not neat,
this land is not of order, she is made of wilder stuff;
of 'untamed'- of 'free',
of rolling land and sprawling wood.
Not neat, no, but peace.