Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

With eager eyes and tempting smile, I beckoned 'cross the wharf
And they returned, a sad reply, stating he must morph
into a man -in pieces then- who puts things back together
Whilst I sit here, and wait and wait, and keep on till forever.

Kingdom comes, piggies fly, time churns soft and slow
Every hour, like the other, shuffling to and fro
Mind is racing, heart is beating, must be with him soon...
He is the sun, he is the stars, he is the solstice moon.

But he is full of hatred, and angry, scary things
That I cannot behold because my covered ears will ring.
I will not hear the wretchedness that billows from his mouth
I will not be the victim of intentions headed south.

Now he’s an angel, under God, and all the better creatures
that prize the gentlest, passionate, souls who mirror all their features. They never asked, only assumed, that I would be alright
But Oh! the torture over one who turned away from light.

So here I wait, on endless shores, until they come for me
Or maybe not, really, who knows, what lies beyond the sea
The water holds the untold words of thousands who've passed on
And here I am, scribbling the script, of stories before dawn.

This poem,
,
excuse me,                                                ehem

i
doesn'­t care if you read it to the end
or if you don't like syntax,                                                          ­              the grammar,
or
the                                         capitol letters
line spelling

breaks (orspacing)

                                                    ­               but perhaps you prefer that it be less...
                                                         ­                                               understandable
   ­                                     Compromising,
      that it comprises the  
                                                                  ENTIRETY
                                            ­                              of
                          nature­                                nursing                          ­      nurture
[aligned to the Left]
  That way you walk away feeling like it was something worth your time!
Respectable (as pronounced in the Spanish language).
                                                      ­                                                                 ­                        And yet,

                                                           ­                                                                 ­                   there is a

                                                              ­                                                                 ­                certain re

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                 -gularity

                                                      ­                                                                 ­                        to time...

like           the           tick           of           the           clock---------------------------------------------
              ­                                                                 ­                    >>thatmadeyoucringe<<
congratulations-
                           nobody cared, or ever will--
                                                                ­         it's the bread and butter---
                                                       ­                                                              Apathy