I've met many men in my life
and not all the men are the same.
They are like a fruit basket
Berries and bananas, apples and grapes.

Some men like their coffees darker.
Some men like their beds unmade.
Some men like to smoke all night.
Some men like to drink all day.
Some men like their women with curves.
Some men like their women fake.
Some men like to hide their smiles.
Some men like to hide their pain.

I've met many men in my life
and not all the men are the same.
They are like a fruit basket
Berries and bananas, apples and grapes.

Dance.
Paint.
Write.
Sing.


We all are finding our own ways to live.

A clock in a tree with a door in its trunk.
Paint it on a plate with colors that you're given.

A black canvas with white paint strokes.
You paint the memories in your little workshop.

Teaching me how to paint my very own collection.
I don't know if you're real or just my imagination.

Half dressed she stood in the kitchen making two cups of coffee.
Half dressed he laid in the bed regretting that last sip of whiskey.

They say women are like flowers
delicate and beautiful, cheery and colorful.
Put them in a vase and care for them daily
And they will make everything look better
with their aura. You'll fall in love.
Believe me.

But
She was not a flower from the gardens
She was more like a wildflower growing between
the cracks of a rock. Almost like rebelling against
the nature's rule.
She was alluring in her own ways yet no one
would ever dare to pluck her.

No one could ever love a wildflower in front of a rose
But
No rose could ever be free like a young fiery soul.

No one ever suspected her for his death.
They all just saw a poor guy
who drowned in the wishing well.

I went to a gypsy to ask about my future
She said, 'show me your hand my child.'
Her eyes popped out and she gasped loudly
'Oh good Lord! What a frightful sight!'

'What's wrong?' I asked her curiously.
'Everything. Everything is wrong.' she replied.
'Your palm lacks the line of fate.' she said.
'I know.' I told her. 'He's gone from my life.'

She sang the song of the dead as I walked out
'Oh the ****** dark soul, Oh my poor little child.
You have no idea how unfortunate you are
You need to be safe. Run and hide. Run and hide!'

The cloud started to follow me down the street
as I cringed in pain, questioning the sky.
'What is my fault?' I screamed in tears.
I guess I'll never know why you had to die.