There once was a young girl.
Very naive, very young, very shy.
Everyday on her way to school,
She would pass by this quaint little house
Where she would glimpse this beautiful boy
Sitting inside staring out of the window.
Everytime she saw him, her heart fluttered in her chest,
Flustered, she'd look away as their gaze met,
Part in fear of the menacing bulldog that faithfully protected it's owner even if the owner didn't like the bulldog much, as well as the abusive mother,
But also because she was shy.
A beautiful boy was looking at her!
Of all people!
She scurried away quickly.

Then, one day, the boy made an excuse to go outside,
To finally meet the pretty girl he has been staring at and longing for,
A friend perhaps.
He checked the mailbox just as the girl passed, and he whispered hello,
His heart offered to her,
As hers stammered and stuttered,
Thrown at him.
They exchanged hearts,
He promised to keep hers safe, as did she.
And then,
she kept on walking, her head down,
Her cheeks a deep crimson.
The whole time,
The bulldog and the mother watched in contempt. He was not to be let go of.

Every morning now, they said their greetings.
The bulldog and women watched,
Watched as the girl helped bandage his wounds,
As the boy took away all her sorrows and insecurities and burned them.
A storm was coming.

One day,
The boy didn't come out.
The bulldog stood,
Tall and proud
At the feet of the old cranky woman.
The girl tried to quickly walk by them,
To escape their claws,
But they pulled her in.
Gave her threats,
Reminded her of everything that she was,
A demon,
A killer,
Not worth anything.

All the fears she once had,
The ones the boy took away,
The old woman and the fearsome bulldog
They took all those fears
And force fed them to her.

She gasped in pain and sorrow,
Filled with doubt and worry,
As they both stood and cackled at her deterioration.

The winds picked up, and as she lay on the ground,
Whimpering and aching,
The boy locked in the basement,
Trying so hard to get out,
To save her once more,
The ******* both still laughing,
And the wind carried her remains away.

The boy,
He felt it when she left.
Her corpse,
It simply floated away into the wind.
He clutched her heart close, knowing no one else would be able to keep it safe.
She dropped his heart, knowing she would never be able to keep something so precious safe.

And then,
*She was gone.

Shriveled & shrunken.
Intoxicated & drunken.
Hung over & agitated.
Mild to moderate brain activity.
Common sense & basic reason lacks mental ability.
Bad with money & squanders financial stability.

Passing a psychological mental health evaluation not quite.
Kept in a straight jacket & sedated in isolation they do spit & bite.
They go through everyone's trash day & night.
They panhandle at the street lights.
They have tempers & pick fights.
Nothing they do is legal or right.

Slobs with no jobs.
They lack work ethics.
The sight & stench of them is sick.
They're sad story is lies & tricks.
Not a truth that sticks.

They cuss & their pocked face oozes ****.
Their frontal lobe is filled with dust.
About telling your teacher the truth they get homicidal & make a fuss.
They drive a ******* car consisting of smog & rust.
Getting arrested for 365 × 3 + 2 counts of child **** is never a bust.

Keep your children away from drunks.
Some drunks get violent, beat you & lock you on a trunk.
Most pedofiles & rapists are drinkers.
Not religious or moral thinkers.
With shingles, hpv virus, ****** & boyles.
Zero morals as hideous as an ugly *** gargoyle.

Enjoy arguing,  screams & shouts.
Daily drunk driving & behind the wheel blackouts.

If she doesn't scare you to your core
or test you to your limit,
if she doesn't make you want to scream
but then make you want to sigh,
if she doesn't tear apart your world
as well as she places it all together,
and align your stars to make your life
brighter
It's not that she is incapable,
it's because she's meant to awaken this
in another man.

Fever doesn't care.
She lands, tucks her wings
In and gently kisses
Beads onto the foreheads
Of children and soldiers
Alike.

I rest against a cool
Breeze, hard hat and hammer
On the concrete by my
Feet.
Back wet, muscles and joints
Ache.

I could feel sorry for
Myself, but find comfort in
The thought that somewhere
Out there,
A toddler's mother touches
Sleeping skin with a

Nervous wrist
And whispers
Into the room
Relieved.
*It's gone
Down.

A man was sitting in a barren landscape
Only cracks in the orange clay
And scorpions for company
And it was very dry

One day the man was sitting in meditation,
And felt himself to be hot,
So he breathed
And when he released this breath,
Trees sprang from the ground
And a pool opened at his feet
He opened his eyes, and he said
"This is not enough"

The next day, the man sat in meditation once more
And he held out his hand and said
"By my divine energy I will there to be a palace for me!"
And from his hand leapt 10,000 bricks
That formed themselves into a castle
Greater than the Taj Mahal
And he sat upon his new throne
And was happy

One day, again, he sat in meditation in his palace
And he thought "I need servants to tend to my whims!"
And he regurgitated 4 servant girls
who would see to his needs as he saw them

Many months later, after much lavish living and unhealthy eating,
He found himself with all of his riches,
all of his silks, and his exotic animal skins and servants,
Still unsatisfied, he went to meditate in his great hall,
He asked himself "Why can't I be truly satisfied? Give me a vision.
Give me a sign that I've made the right decisions"

The man found himself in the place he was truly happy
But he was confused, as he had been here before
He was seeing himself sitting on the orange clay,
At play with a scorpion,
Searching for his water for the day

"But I've had my fill" he tells himself
"I drink so much water a day I could drown a fish.
I wear such nice silks I counted down to the ten thousandth stitch
How can I be unhappy if I'm so lavishly rich?"

And that's when he realized,
that happiness isn't measured in the gold of a ring,
Or being acknowledged as some sort of king,
Happiness is having just the right amount of water from the spring,
Not the precious metals and fabric to which we cling,
And as his palace of fools gold crumbled down,
He sprang and danced and looked all around
And felt so happy he started to sing