Every wooden sanded edge
Every rippling river smooth with skipping stones
And metal ridges sharper than swords well-hewn
The kind which pierces even the heavens reign
And pours down thunder like an autumnal coat
I know, I know, of even such a place
Where the summers howl and the winters winds
Gently blow out candlelight stars below
And there also you will find such out
In the pouring of the heart and soul
I am the one
No doubt

You think I'm used to being me?
You think I'm comfortable in these shoes?
Walking time and time again,
Down that old hallway, without you?

Well I'm not.
But ironically enough
No longer do I expect you
Or anyone for that matter
To tell me how to be myself

To tell me which shoes to buy or to wear
Because I simply walk
As I once was taught
And always will

To stride alongside with a loving air
Until I find the most tolerable pair, of shoes
The most close to comfortable I can bear

By which I mean of course
A very inspiring and impressive pair
Because a man needs good walking shoes
If he is to live his life some-wear

My shoulders a mountaintop
My mind a sky
Would you climb?
Will you fly?

My memories are not special
They are not unique
But they are mine

And though imperfect
They're all that I have
To reference these more confusing times

And after I’ve lived them once or twice
I store them away within my mind

Not just for me
But also for you

So that one day you can look back and see
All that it once meant to be
Alive within the eyes of Me

It's not there untill it is proven
            I create the unrest inside

The government has it's secrets
And so do I
We all are deep and in depth creatures
Capable of living both very public
And yet very private lives

And yet every once and awhile in time
I'm astounded by what is that I find
In my own life

That I've been trying and far more confident
In the standards which I set for myself
And now that I'm there without sense of self
I no longer wish nor want to comply

I am the rolled up sleeves before it's socially acceptable.  Before 3:00.
I am the rooftop climber and the moonlight gazer.  Swinging in the bitter wind.
I am the patient one.  The tag along.  Often kind but on my own.
And always off in my own mind.
Completely different.  And yet the same.
I am one.  *One of a certain kind.

What can I say
When things are this way?
Not much I’m afraid
Make a comparison to the difference, be it night or day…
Cheesy
Tell you that it will not always be this way…
Untrue
Because only we as a race can say
And determine what it means
To be loved and to love
At least in this, this certain way
So what can I say?
When things are this way
Just be wise and be true
When you question that way

I cannot see outside of me
Just as I cannot see the other side of the other screen
Or the person who might admire my words
Or just how they might even appear to be

But this is fine and alright with me
Because foresight flows most equally
Both to and from the truth within
Until such truth is know to me

And just as I might never see
The person who reads my poetry
There is something refreshing inside of me
Like an inherent truth reminding me

That only the readers who I let see
Will ever get a chance to be
Within that certain sight in question
First and foremost, as it appeared to me