Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

She always wanted to come out from inside of me but I never let her
She always makes me wear the opposite of my clothes and in them I look better
She always dresses me up in any weather
She always puts her make up on my face and says that way I'm prettier

She tells me that she is the real me and I was just her vessel
She tells me that I no me I am just another weasel
She tells me to let her out so she can show me the rest of the world
She tells me to set her free so she can free me from my boredom

She speaks in my head like I don't own it
She falls for a guy and wants me to deal with it
She said that I am her and she is me
But i told her that want she wants is not yet to be done, I just wanna be the male me

I stand at the brink of illusion
Not knowing which way to trek.
Beyond the barrier is cold, barren reality.
Reality which comes to smack me in the face,
Reality which wakes me from my dreams.
I stand on the brink of illusion
Not knowing whether to stay.
Before the barrier is blissful oblivion.
Illusion that holds me close in my sleep,
Illusion that never lets me wake.
In which land should I venture?
Which should I chose?

A book's laid out in front of me.
Broken spine keeps my place.
Heat from both radiator
and unfamiliar sun.

I close my eyes,
wishing half an hour
would disappear
like it does on any other day.

Ticking of nails on plastic keys,
behind and in front.
The sound of a generation.

Distant talking and traffic light beeps
masked
by cold-ridden breath.

A car drives passed the window,
slowly. And then it's gone.
Hidden beneath the beep
of a successful loan.
Still the sound beats all.

God is bigger than our failed ability
To deal with life;
That's why He sent Christ
To die for our sins --
And gave us the power to be victors
As he rose again, giving us *hope.