"Always become the one being hurt
Rather than ever hurting another"
Words I have strived to live by
The philosophy left by my mother

I've always tried to live my life
Standing up for what is right
Helping others no matter the cost
Being everyone's shining knight

What a horrible way to live

Even when I was on the verge of breaking
Even when the burden seemed too large
I always took it onto myself
And it was always free of charge

They all need to pay

But lately there is this voice
Echoing from the back of my mind
That is always fighting to take over
It wants to punish the unkind

Maybe I don't want to forgive

Tell me who is that inside me
Those thoughts can't be my own
Even when there's no one around
Somehow I am not alone

Just let me come out and play

I'm trying to keep it at bay
Am I past the point of no return?
I JUST WANT THE VOICE TO GO AWAY
But.... *Now....it's my turn

Roses, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
  But in their hue;
Maiden pinks, of odour faint,
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
  And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;
Merry springtime’s harbinger,
  With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
  Larks’-heels trim;

All dear Nature’s children sweet
Lie ‘fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,
  Blessing their sense!
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
  Be absent hence!

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough ****,
  Nor chattering pye,
May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
  But from it fly!

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.

I buy how-to books on a lot of things
How to cook
How to clean
How to host a dinner party

I know how to love
and how to make 3 cheese lasagna
and how to remove stains
But I do not know how to hate

I wish I had a book
on how to loathe people who hurt me
Written for dummy's
or by Martha Stewart

You hurt me.
But I cant hate you.
For I don't have a book on how to be mad
at you.

And so I will never learn.
Because I will forever
and I will always
be in the wrong.

We sit together, in the quiet
You turn to me and apologize
Apologize for your depression
Your sadness
I turn to you and tell you to not give up
That I love you.

You apologize for me dealing with you
For going through it with you
The way I look at it; this is a journey
for two
And I have the privilage of doing it
with you
Lo there are crooked trails and deep ravines;
You have my help,
You have my love.

You always wanted me to
write a poem for you
You'd be surprised to find out
that thoughts of you are
in the form
of only the most intricate forms of
poetry
I align your flaws and quirks into
the finest haikus
Five syllables about how your smile brightens up
a rainy day
Seven syllables about how that freckle on your cheek
makes me weak
Five syllables about how I never liked brown eyes
until you came along