Some say love is a kiss
Pressed softly against your cheek
Or perhaps a beautiful summer's
Day, with sunny skies and green grass
Maybe a pain in the chest
Caused by love unrequited,
Lost, or unatainable
But why can't love be everything?
A simple pinprick of emotion
To a blade ****** and twisted in your heart
A plastic grocery bag floating
Heavily in an Ankh-Morporkian river
A dandelion crushed by
Children's running feet
A single raindrop streaking down
From the sky
A baby giraffe stumbling to
Her feet, gangly legs tangling up
An awkward kiss, half shy
But still enjoyed
A hundred spears pointed towards
The heart of one man, standing forward
A broken butterfly wing
Fluttering to the ground

My story,
Do I have one?
Of course I do, everyone does.
Some are harsher and crueler
Some are nice and happer
Many are a mix of cruel and happy
And as for me, I have one too
It's sad and happy, a bit of both.
My story.
It starts in the beginning
And ends at the end
It's quirky and troubled
Sunny and long.
But it's also shorter than many
I've lived much in my
Fifteen(almost sixteen) years of life
Not as much as others
But my tapestry is tightly woven
My story
Is a story of
Pain and laughter
Love and indifference
And it is still being written.

Hurricane fighter
Life and death celebrator, Spicy food eater
Street performer and Harborer of ships
Weather-beaten, resilient, colorful
The City that Care Forgot

They tell me you are beaten, *****, and old, and I acknowledge this, having seen your streets and limping buildings, water-marked and sagging
They tell me you are cruel and dark, and I agree, I've seen the voodoo shops, and the papers speaking of crimes
They tell me you are raucous and crowded, and I respond, "Yes, I know. I have walked through her streets and through the ear shattering sound"

And having said these things, I look again to those who ridicule my home, my city and tell them:
I dare you to bring me news of another place that's been beat down, and yet time after time rises again, singing even in death and anguish, wearing the dingy but bright colors of life

Laughing in the face of defeat, walking proud, and even as its guts tear each other apart, she sets her jaw and keeps moving forward
Fierce as a gator grappling with a hunter, clever and bright as a bird
Battered,
Falling,
Flying,
Soaring,
Hurting, healing, grinning
Beneath the ******, dirt smeared face, she smiles with a brilliant grin
Beneath the harsh reality of injuries and setbacks, fire dances in her heart and soul
Dancing even as a wizened soldier knowledgeable in pain but carefree would
Twisting and spinning over and around obstacles, taking the occasional hit, laughing in the ***** air, lifeblood of the city coursing through her veins
Dancing!
Laughing the weather-beaten, resilient, colorful laugh of Youth. Proud to be a Hurricane fighter
Life and death celebrator, Spicy food eater Street performer, Harborer of ships,
The City that Care Forgot

O Captain! My Captain
An agent of Time
Set out on a mission,
That went all but fine.
Two years of memories
All down the drain

Two new friends left him
Near as soon as they came
After a battle between Dalek and man
This in a sense,
Was his last stand.
He came, he conquered
He fell, and rose

Abandoned by friends
To fend for his own

Back in time he went,
And stuck once again,
Our Captain seemed doomed
To live on his own

The immortal was cocky,
Lived life to its best
Though after a few hundred years,
He'd soon beg for rest.

O Captain! My Captain!
What's brought you dread?
Is it the fact that you went
From human to a head?

He was merely a face.
The Face of Boe, he was called.
His long lived life,
Lived with flaw.

Alas, it seems,
All things come to an end.
And with the Time Lord and companion,
Our Captain was dead.

O Captain, my Captain!
Though plans were never followed through,
We all met you with one line:
"Captain Jack Harkness, and who are you?"

Why do we sentient beings,
We intelligent masses of flesh and bone
Feel an inclination to wonder?
To admire and collect and ****** beautiful things?
To pluck a flower from a forbidden garden,
And to taste  lethal meat?
To see and feel and smell
And hear and taste
Until our synapses overload
And we experience nothing more
Than an achingly painful
And powerfully unsurpassable joy?
Maybe this is what it means to be human...

Magic
Force of old earth
And one to be reckoned with
Neither benevolent,
Nor malevolent by nature
The purpose determined by the user

Dark and light,
Good and bad.
Used by the wrong person,
It causes peace and happiness,
Or death and destruction.
A force to be reckoned with indeed.
But also to be used with care.

Yin and yang
And salt and pepper
Balance the decision with great care
Walk the edge of a razor to channel it
And think before every move

Unstable as it is,
Delight is brought.
Tricks of the light, perhaps.
But perhaps not.
An unending fun for those who use it
With great care.
Those who don't...
Consequences shall be suffered.

So when dealing with magic
Keep in mind that
No matter how simple
And innocent it appears,
It is more complex and old
And you are just a channel.
So beware of the path
That you choose to send it down
And remember: have fun

Before I had you, I never worried about losing you
Only about never getting you
Now that I have you I mostly worry about loving you
Because if we do leave each other
The reason will be a good one
We love each other too much for it to be otherwise