I was named Peter for a reason
Come on, i'll take you away from the hurt
You'll be my Wendy
As we transcend into Neverland

Gun control?
You mean like not going crazy with it and be a responsible adult?
This nation has a apparent gun contingency
But the moment we take the guns away
Will be the modern fears of Communism striking us from within
We would be the Rome with no able army
The Founding Forefathers knew this
And would of handled this shooting problem with some extra assistance from the nation's defenders themselves
Mr President, employ the protectors to keep us safe
But do not take guns away.

My love for you is a different kind,
less explosive and hardened;
no longer plagued by ecstasy.

No romance, roses, or advances.

My love for you is a different kind,
not light-hearted, friendly, or smooth,
lacking tact, natural, or loose.

Not friendship, laughter, and chances.

My love for you is a different kind,
ostracized in form, yet firm, careful,
restless, persistant, and withdrawn.

Not lost, forgotten, or resentful.

My love for you is a different kind,
now,
and I don't know what to do.

Every morning I wake up,
Am reminded of so much I need to be ashamed of
Immediately, all the little strenght I'd gathered while asleep,
Vanishes, leaving me with a vacuum so deep.
I take up a feeble stand,
So as not to waste the day I have in hand.
With little make- up and simple lace
I pretend that everything is in place
Yet I'm merely a living dead
Yearning that someday this torment would come to an end.

At nights, the feeling increases with much fierceness
In its' silence and darkness
Am left alone with my regrets and rage
Entangled with my past, enfettered in it's cage
Is it the regret of giving my everything,
While loosing the confidence to be me?
Or the rage from repeatedly falling for hidden lies
Enshrouded in deceitful smiles?
With my strength fully abated,
I lie in the pool of my own tears, still; without the vacuum satiated.