When the journey becomes too great the world will flee. Family will turn away and friends will not be found. I do not hold them to account, because some trials must be mine alone. If I am to come into my destiny, I may have to be tried by fire, but it will temper me. It is god who orders my path, so I must press on. The things that seem for my harm will work for his glory and my good. Sometimes I must walk alone.

I have fought many battles and I have not always been Victorious. My emotions have been shattered and my heart torn to shreds. Some of those I love have betrayed me and some enemies have saved me. Though I have been knocked down I've always gotten back up. Some wounds are deeper than others, but I have always found a way for them to heal. The scars that are upon me are not always visible, but I would not give them up for anything. Though you may not see a warrior, I promise you I am steadfast in my resolve. I do not know what challenge I will face tomorrow, but I am prepared to battle it all. My scars they do not Define me, they simply stand to remind me. When things seem to be their darkest, I will fight my way to the light. I will stand up for what I believe and I will continue to fight. I will wear my scars like a badge of honor and of them I will never be ashamed. The show others what I'm capable of and that if you are willing you can achieve great things.

When the sand is spoiled with footprints, you need only wait a little while. The waves will wash in as the tide rises and it will wash away the past and leave a clean slate for you to start again.

what barrier stands between the heart and it's truth? When a person looks through a focused prism, shades of black and white Fall Away. Vibrant colors appear as driven by emotion. The desire of their heart will glow in radiant light. Love is a spectrum of the rainbow, it knows no race gender or Creed, it bypasses hatred an animus to give the heart what it desires. So in a world that is cut in the Hue of black and white, love is the dazzling Spectrum of color that is laid out like a field of wildflowers. It shines in the bright sunlight and wants to be seen its truest form

I look down at the blank paper and wish the pen to write. In frustration I lay my head in my hands. Slowly I fade into sleep only to be awakened by the sound of music. I turn around to see a man playing a lyre as another paces back and forth. Puzzled for a moment ,I look around the room. From one corner I see people who are vaguely familiar. My eyes return to the person Playing the music and suddenly I know it is David, while pacing next to him I see Aerostotil. Over at a simple wooden, table I recognize Shakespear chatting with a brash fellow I know to be Mark Twain. In confusion I stumble into Lord Byron, who is reading work just written by Dickenson, she sits in a chair idly brooding waiting for him to declare what he thinks. In a Mad Dash of confusion I quickly turn around, and I fall as the house of Usher's and come crashing to the ground. A well-dressed gentleman offers me a hand and picks me up, he has a dark and piercing stare. I ask where I am, and Mister Poe quietly declares, you're in the poet's room. You have found your way here, I asked him how and he says I'm truly not sure. He says this is a place where people come to share ideas and to watch one another's work. I say that I was frustrated and could not will my pen to write. He laughs rather smugly with an impish Delight. He said that is not the purpose of writing, he says you cannot will it to flow. He says look around you and tell me what you see. I said I see great writers, but he said they can be just as frustrated as you. He said Each one can tell a story, and he said that something that you must learn to do. So the room again to fade into a fuzzy Hayes. I woke up from my slumber and look down at the blank and dismal page. It suddenly dawned on me, but I must look around. For if I want to tell a story, then it must be found. So I got it for my table and took a walk outside. There I took a really good look at the World Grand and wide. I didn't set off on a journey with the lessons that I've learned. A story can't be forced, it must be earned. So when I return to my desk, with paper and Pen in Hand. I shall no longer be so frustrated for now I understand.

Satan has risen or at least that's what she said, as high heels are tossed at my head. A lamp is broken and a vase of shattered, then the curtains are ripped. She screams that I'm the anti-christ and that this is the apocalypse. I have no idea what I've done wrong as I stand there with a befuddled look. She screams how dare you forget that my parents are coming, is that why you forgot to cook? I scratch my head idly as she points her finger to accuse. I would speak to defend myself but then she has a whole rack of shoes. So I wait for the storm to abate, and then I give my phone a quick look. I noticed the calendar date and a message reminder that says I should cook. As she's filling up a bag with some of her shoes and clothes, I Ponder if I should tell her that today is not the date. I then calmly decide that I'll just quietly wait. As she finishes filling her bag, she looks to me as if I should speak. She asked if I have anything to say for myself, I just Shrugged my shoulders as she begins to leave. I know that it may be kind of cruel for me not to say anything. This is not the first time the storm has blown through or she's made this mistake. So I'll just let her go back to her mom and dads and when she finds out that dinner is next week, she'll be feeling really bad. As she slammed the front door shut, I just gleefully smile at what's coming next. In an hour she'll call me begging for forgiveness, and then we'll have fantastic make-up ***.

**** black high heels and Silk Stockings she can be oh so enchanting. Treat her badly and she will become sarcastic and demanding. You were drawn in by her dark blue eyes and Raven hair, the sharpness of her blood red fingernails made you not really care. Then she steps on your manhood would that ****** high heel, she berates you as inept and you're not sure how you should feel. So is this the enchantress, that cunning and seductive witch or is she just being abusive to you because you caused her to be a *****?