At the night's close
The winds whisper their way through tree tops
To tell of their travels
And looking upon them
We are rustled just the same
All hands at rest
While mine are restless
Shaking for a page to pen
In the solace of the the dark
Where you'll find me
Uncovering words in constellations
To scrawl on floorboards
In hopes that some day these words may carry me
And I may write
Words that echo
In minds not mine

I hope you tell her that you love her
And mean it all the same
I hope you make her feel special
And don't confuse her with silly games

Allow her to be herself in your love
And accept her for who she is
Whether she shares your interests
Or just likes to do her own things

Appreciate her for all the times that she cares
When she is there for you
I hope your love is wonderful
I pray that it is true

You are so special and she will know
If she is that certain one
That you are worth her waiting for
That you are worth her love

I hope you believe in her and cherish her
That you will set her heart aflame
But in all of this, most of all
*I hope, to you, she does the same

I can see myself now,
Shouting "farewell" to this place
And the lonely souls who occupy it;
Floating around in oblivious, liquid states.
I've felt the tug of roots from the trees,
Grasping my ankles, begging me to join them,
But the promise of concrete skies and neon greetings have gnawed their way
Through my skull.
I won't apologize for giving in to my desires,
For broadening my knowledge
And making use of my short existence.
I am not limited
To this simplistic, little rock.

You are a murderer
The worst of kinds
A serial killer
Preying on minds