As we grow old the times seem darker,
but for the younger they have never been brighter,
as some speak of how things once were,
others speak of how things will be.
Our experiences are what shape our lives,
as a pessimist is one who set their hopes too high,
and the optimists are the ones who made their dives.
As the old grow more bitter,
and the young see life to glitter,
the old press their sadness upon the youth,
believing that they have yet to see the truth.
Acting as if the children are dumb,
incapable, foolish and yet to be hung,
but the adolescents are merely hopeful,
until they are subdued to not be so vocal.
Like a wildfire being subdued by a storm,
the young quiet down,
becoming worn and torn.
And as they grow old and see the mistakes,
they try to have the new youth hit the breaks,
but to remain strong and hopeful the youth must remain,
or else living in disparity, ignorance and pain.

Break my fingers for that pay,
just to blow the money away,
but that is what addiction is like,
or else my body will go on strike.

It is too hard,
why should I try?
to go that extra mile,
when the opportunity will fly on by.
There is too big of a cost,
why should I leap?
what if we end up lost?
and the devil has my soul to keep.
Tell yourself these words everyday,
and life passes you by,
and you sit and play.
Let these words sit in your head,
as you sit alone,
lying in your bed.
But there are others who will not be like you,
others who are like lions,
the kings to break out of this zoo.
There are others who are not like you,
they say I can when they should not,
and do not give it a second thought.
Those are the men who will stand atop a mountain,
looking down upon you,
and ******* in your drinking fountain.
Those are the men who will succeed because they believed,
while you sat and gave every excuse you could bleed.

I want that phone,
that Ipod too,
give me the camera,
and I will record this zoo.
Throwing a punch,
for the newest toys,
never aware,
these are merely ploys.
As companies control what we love,
creating mountains out of molehills,
such as diamonds and gold,
they make others work against their wills,
just to get something sold.
While in our "civilized" society,
we speak of how we have ascended,
gone past the slave work,
and life is splendid.
But if we took each and every child,
and make them work with no food,
that would get the parents surely riled.
But we HAVE done this with the PEOPLE in the "wild"
and yet we act so mild,
as they die and we just smiled,
because we got the new T.V.,
at the "lowest" cost there can be.

Lost are we,
in this infinite abyss.
An idea in our heads,
of what is pure bliss.
Lost are we,
in this complex maze,
losing ourselves,
just to feel that praise.
Lost are we,
doing what we are told,
reaching for that goal,
until we turn cold.
Lost are we,
as we die here all alone,
dreams are forgotten,
and never written in stone.

Save us they say,
they have stolen our hearts,
they have chopped us up,
and sold our body parts.
Save us they say,
they have taken our rights,
and these rights are ours,
we gained them through our fights.
Save us they say,
as they look for others,
we are dying here,
protects our sisters, mothers and brothers.
Save us they say,
as they cower in fear,
unable to go on,
only steering clear.
Save us they say,
as they lie down and die,
I blame only you,
as I have lived a lie.

It is overdone to write a love poem,
speaking of how the clouds separate when you are around,
and how your voice is a heavenly sound.
It is overdone to write a love poem,
talking of how your heart is pure,
and how I am sick and you are the cure.
It is overdone to write a love poem,
but that is what I have done,
and compared to you there are none.

Looking into the vast sea,
unable to gaze into the endless ocean,
the reflection staring back at me,
oblivious to the surrounding commotion.
As our sails are set on fire,
the hole from the cannon is gaining water,
I can see i am about to retire,
as the pirates begin their slaughter.
First they slice my heart in half,
stomping upon it with a laugh,
then my soul is destroyed,
creating an endless void.
But you are safe within their grasp,
they do not hurt you,
you do not gasp.
You stare into my eyes as I die,
and away with then you go off and fly.

Look at us,
Thinking we are a sophisticate,
so intricate,
and yet we ***** about what we have not anticipated.
Look at the last person you saw,
picking out their every flaw,
noticing how they are a *******,
yet we are not a part of it.
They have lives which differ from ours,
we are the extras in their hours,
they do not care for you,
just as you do not care too.
We eat the same nutrients,
read the same rudiments,
believe we are better,
because of our new sweater.
What we do not see,
is we all have a plea,
we watch the same ****,
have times to mourn,
act as judge and jury,
to everyone else's storm.
You are a god,
in your own right,
you deserve to be awed,
because you fight the good fight.
Yet when anything falls,
you look around and blame the walls,
the one's which restrict and keep you from joy,
the one's you constructed,
behind this foolish ploy.
So grow the **** up,
and recognize your faults,
or grow on up,
and dance alone in this waltz.

Listen to the fact,
do not use your heart,
it has more tact.
Like a politician leading you astray,
directing you,
like a character in a play.
When you finish and the crowd applauds,
you stand as if you are awed,
but the truth is you are a fraud,
and the entire play has been flawed.
We are toy soldiers,
directed by a child,
told to move boulders,
with our weakening shoulders.
What will they do when we go up that hill?
As our footing breaks underneath our feet,
will they catch the rock coming to crush us alive,
or will they merely stand atop,
looking down to chastise.
They will throw their tantrums,
and sing their anthems,
speak of how they did their part,
and that maybe you should start.
Their part was to give direction,
and because of their perfection,
they deserve protection.
So as we lay dying on the ground,
unable to move,
not making a sound.
They will call upon the rest of the soldiers,
to fight their wars,
and move the boulders.

I have been gone,
but now I'm back,
is that not what we wanted?
Now we can get on track!
Or have we lost the race already,
fatigued ourselves,
no longer steady?
Let us push to try and win,
but if we cannot then lets us finish,
have some dignity and end it right,
there is no need to succumb to a losing fight.
If there is the off chance that we make it,
then that is a chance we should take,
because to quit is pathetic,
so lets pretend to be athletic.

It hits me hard,
like a brick dropped on my head,
I was not expecting such a drop,
it almost killed me dead.
Although I realize my overreaction,
once I begin to walk straight,
as I realize,
it must be fate.
Think will fall upon me,
and obviously I will be hurt,
but to carry one with it in my heart,
will only cause it to not start.
I must learn to let go,
and release this pain,
learn from the experience,
and remove the stain.
As I see others holding these grudges,
I must learn to carry on through the puddles,
and when I am walking,
and the brick falls on my head,
I must remember this is lesson to look up,
as I am not yet dead.

In my head,
then it is gone,
no way for it to re spawn.
I want to recreate this life,
"edit" things out with a knife,
cut out the snakes in my veins,
but I just do it in vain,
I try to hold them in my mouth,
but everything just goes south.
The more I stab, mutilate to "edit",
I merely eliminate every bit of credit,
as I try to rectify,
I only manage to petrify.
So I must learn to walk with my head up high,
let the bumps pass on by,
like a bird soaring home,
I cannot stop,
I must roam.
When life tosses me down,
and lets the snakes slither out,
I cannot just sit and pout,
I must walk on without a doubt.

What if there was another way,
to pass on these raw feelings inside,
not to just pass away,
but to find some way to confide.
I do not want to die by my hand,
but the act I know will shock you,
but I want to continue to stand,
while getting these thoughts through.
I am to great to destroy myself,
at least that is what I always lie,
but if there was a third option,
I would take it rather than to die.
But for now these thought will lie,
ripping at my skull and ribs,
constantly filling our conversations with an ad-lib,
While wanting to break and cry.
I will lash out as the pain erupts,
I cannot control it, although there is regret,
why can I not get over it?
So I will tear myself up inside,
I will not speak, too much pride,
I will have a facade which you will see,
but it is never actually me.

**** me over,
put me in agony,
but it is okay,
because we are all family.
Accept defeat,
take the hit,
when you are with family,
you deal with this ****.
But what if you could pick and choose,
who you keep and who you lose,
well then those would be friends,
who you can pick until your heart's content,
but remember that isn't family,
that is merely people for rent.

I look back on what I have done,
what I have lost,
what I have won.
Looking into this blue ocean,
overwhelmed by my petty emotion.
I am just a figment of this vast grand planet,
yet what happens around me,
I can barely stand it.
As people pass by without a thought,
of who I was,
and what I sought.
Who am I to judge what they think,
when I forget their faces within my next blink.
I think of my intelligence and how it is higher,
and how everyone surrounding me is nothing but a liar.
While I fill my mind with these pompous emotions,
I do the same as them and go through life's motions.
So what about me makes me better than them?
Is it my distinguished goals,
and their lacking of souls.
Or is it the fact that I am so cynical,
that I feel I am above as if a the pinnacle.
Either way I continue to say,
how everyone is lazy,
and I should always get my way.
And with these thoughts of self-righteousness,
I take away all likeness,
of someone with politeness.
Pushing those away has become a hobby of mine,
and one can only hope,
that alone I will pass the test of time.

Well aren't you just a big tough guy,
no need for help,
letting everything go by.
You think you are like a lone wolf,
going at it alone,
not expecting a bone.
Well what if I told you that even wolves have packs,
relying on others,
having someone watch their backs.
What if I told you that it is alright to have someone,
to not always run,
to not need that gun.
What if I told you that you do not have to be alone,
that there is a person,
for everyone.
Well raise your head,
from the dead,
you can make out alive.
You just need to strive,
go ahead and take that dive.
Be like the bird stepping out of its nest,
you will not be a pest,
just do your best.
Even if you fail,
fall to the ground and break a bone,
just remember,
you will never be alone.

You died,
took your life,
couldn't handle,
all the strife.
You are not weak,
but it seems,
you hit a peak.
You left your family,
you left your friends,
leaving them,
to what ends?
Now they lay,
alone at home,
while you lay,
in your tomb.
What did you think,
when you drank that bottle,
did you know you would sink,
sinking at full throttle.
What did you think,
when you tied that noose,
what did you deduce,
by causing that abuse?
And now that you are gone,
you do not see what you have caused,
you were not strong,
to at least have paused.
Think of more than yourself,
you are not just another, on a shelf.
But now you are no longer here,
and it is slowly becoming more clear,
you wiped yourself out, with growing fear.
Think of your life,
think of the strife,
think of,
your future wife.
Because once you are gone,
so are they,
you will not be the one,
who has to pay.

Your opinion is not fact,
I know, I know, how could I act,
with such little tact.
To tell you that what you believe,
is not true, only trying to deceive.
But when you look beyond the truth,
using facts you have had since youth,
you are bound to create an emotional bond,
which you will use to respond.
But use the numbers in front of your eyes,
the statistics will not tell you lies,
deaths are rising,
violence is increasing,
but you reject the idea of policing.
Let us be free to decide,
and you hold your morals with pride,
but not everyone is like you,
even you yourself is not so true.
People will lie and manipulate,
in order to control others' fate.
So please take a second right there,
the facts may just give you a scare,
but the truth is that they are there,
this cannot be fixed by a prayer,
so please do not leave the truth to spare.

Let it go,
let it go,
just drop it out,
in the snow.
Let it cool,
don't be a fool,
it does not matter,
to look cool.
For if you live,
with hidden hate,
you will realize,
when it is too late.
If you hold,
that anger inside,
letting it grow,
letting it preside.
You will only hurt,
the ones that you love,
so let it all go,
and rise up above.

The vampires come in at night,
they do not warn you,
do not cause a fright.
But while you lay asleep in your bed,
they set up a facade,
inside your head.
Within this idea there blooms happiness,
******* in the light,
creating an abyss.
But you overlook the abyss for the gleam,
from which the sun gives you,
or so it seems.
As you step closer to get more light,
one wrong move,
and you have a fright.
For you are now falling into the abyss,
went to close,
missed out on fortunes kiss.
And when you wake there is no one there,
the vampires have left,
leaving you in despair.
You find yourself alone in your room,
soon to be taken,
all too soon.
You thought you could live on like this,
******* in light,
walking into the abyss.
But life does not work with such innocence,
you will be ****** dry,
within an instance.
So keep the wooden stake in bed,
keep one eye open,
or you will be dead.

Looking out that dreary window,
as the birds flock together,
scavenging for food.
I can see their haste to grab every bit,
snapping at each other,
having a fit.
As that green grass grows,
giving them food,
they forget their qualms,
from the winter feud.
The point where they would cut out each others throats,
in order to eat,
going for every last bit of meat.
They may not dine upon flesh,
but they will do their best to steal whats fresh.
And within the smallest bird I see myself,
beaten out by the strongest crow,
but as I watch this little bird die,
I question whether the crows will let him run dry.
And as they continue to ****** up every worm,
the little bird lays there and begins to squirm.
He goes off and leaves to a faraway place,
one where he can eat alone,
without any disgrace.
And while this may be the perfect metaphor for me,
I only lie here,
wanting to plea.
So as I grow thinner and faint,
I think of the bird,
who left without complaint.
What causes this restraint,
which follows every complaint,
with this picture I paint,
of how I am no saint.
I bring myself down,
making myself alone,
when I could have gone out,
and let others see how I have grown.
But instead I lie on my back in my bed,
until I hear a tapping in my head.
It is the little bird who has come back to haunt me,
tapping insistently,
always flaunting.
Of how it is now the biggest bird,
it goes and eats whenever a worm is heard,
and as I see how big is has become,
I can also see how I am numb,
and it has caused me to live under societies thumb,
never free,
never to run.
Because I did not do as the bird has done.

Do not force me to believe,
to get down on my knees,
it will only cause me to leave,
respect my views please,
and maybe then I will appease.
For I am the lone wolf,
living without his pack,
tossed away like a sheep which is black,
because they believed I fell of track.
Distant and alone I have grown,
living this life which they have sewn,
so do not expect me to live this life,
after what I have seen,
after all of the strife.
Just hold my hand and lead me away,
do not pull, do not play.
Just give me direction and I will follow,
choosing my way,
hoping to fill what's hollow.
And if I cannot believe what you teach,
I will move on with my life,
and let you still preach.
But if you continue you to spout,
about how I am a failure,
like a crop in a drought.
Then I will be forced to fight back alone,
breaking you down, turning over every stone.
So I beg of thee just trust me,
to make my decision based on what I agree,
and if I find love within your words,
then I will go high,
taking flight with these birds.

Why does this world seem so dark,
with ****** and suicide at every channel,
with a **** in some unknown country up on a panel.
And yet we continue to live our lives,
filled with thoughts of insults on people we barely know,
stabbing one another with thoughts shaped like knives.
And then when we are hit with a catastrophic moment,
where someone is dead who was close to our hearts,
and only then is when our empathy starts.
I had a friend die today who I hadn't spoken of in years,
yet I do not find myself in tears,
he was a man who had lived his life,
but took it away when filled with strife.
Yet I cannot bring myself to believe,
that people will put up faces to deceive.
Our selfish desires make us look past them,
forgetting that we could be where the problems stem.
And how can there be such selfish desires,
to ******, steal and start fires.
We desire money and pride,
while looking past societies suicide.
So maybe if we look into ourselves,
and realize we are just one of many on the shelves,
to care and protect should be our main goal,
not to just live and collect our toll.

Take my name,
take my card,
soon you will own me,
it is not that hard.
I am like an open book,
just type my name,
I'll be caught on your hook.
My information is everywhere
you can find my favorite food,
or most hated place to think,
either way I am *******,
for you will own me before I blink.
With so much social media,
filling the internet like an encyclopedia,
about our lives and what they mean,
there is no privacy that can be seen.
So let us live our lives like animals,
living in cages placed upon these screens,
our lives are owned by these machines.

To leave you is to love you,
isn't that the hard truth.
As I walk outside your doorway,
taking with me all my youth.
We will grow old someday,
and think of one another,
but I choose to walk away,
rather than to smother.
When we meet again,
on a day far from here,
will we be like two lovebirds,
holding one another dear.
Or will you leave and find a man,
who can satisfy your needs,
or will you follow the plan,
and help plant loves seeds.
Love is like a plant,
fighting for that sun,
but the sun can dry it out,
shooting it like a gun.
But if we can shield ourselves,
from the overbearing shots,
we may outgrow these restrictive pots,
and hopefully connect the dots.
Let our leaves touch so softly,
like your gentle hands,
I hope that our grasp will depict,
our growth across the lands,
as they reach past the soil which restricts,
and breaking through the vines which conflicts,
we will meet once again,
connected by this natural chain.

Sometimes it is hit or miss,
to go for that kiss,
but if you find it,
you are granted eternal bliss.
To shy away,
and not join the fray,
will leave you alone,
like a child sent astray.
So take that dive,
be graceful like a dolphin,
as you make a big splash,
into the ocean of love,
do not worry about the crash,
for you will fly like a dove.
If you were to miss,
and lose that dear kiss,
live and let live,
and continue to strive,
for once you find love,
you will feel alive.

Let me have a drink,
I don't want responsibilities,
I don't want to think.
Just let me have a ******* drink,
drown myself in my sorrow,
keep me from thinking of tomorrow.
For if I numb my mind enough,
and drown my sorrows in a beer,
I can accomplish anything that is rough,
while making my mind bright and clear.

Or is that what I tell myself,
as I pop open that bottle,
telling myself my mind will be clear.
And with each drink I gain confidence,
believing that I gain competence,
like a man who fought no wars,
yet surrounds himself with ******.
Speaking of stories which I never knew,
and thinking of the next lie I will brew.
So do I need this drink to live?
or merely just to have a story to give?

You don't know me,
so why do you flee,
acting as if I will sink into the waters.
I will not hurt you,
but I will not lay down,
ride with me,
through this sea.
I will protect you,
from the biting sharks,
the stinging jellyfish,
and the octopus' marks.
I will be the ship to take you over the ocean,
and I will inhibit my motion,
just so you can enjoy this mild breeze,
without being hindered by self-centered pleas.
And when the storm comes,
and crashes upon you,
I will be there,
to save you from that deep blue.
But if you do not steer me away from the storm,
and cower in fear as the clouds swarm,
letting lighting strike bow and stern,
I will not be able to carry you,
and together we will burn.

I can do it,
I swear I can,
trust me please,
I have a plan.
But if you continue to inhibit my heart,
then I will find it hard to start,
because I am like a child,
one who has hopes and dreams,
you cannot have me reviled,
or you will tear me apart by my seams.
Instead you must support me,
and tell me I can,
even when you do not agree,
you must see me become a man.
For I will grow and become stronger,
like a vine around a tree,
I will continue until I can no longer,
and then I will be free.

Come to me,
let us create some controversy,
despite what we say, we do not fill our hearts with love,
while promising one another our soul,
we push away with a shove.
For we are like gasoline and fire,
and yet we are shocked by what always transpires.
An explosion which is filled with rage,
trapping each other into a cage,
while our minds burn to a cinder,
the final goal is only to hinder,
for water will not douse this fire,
as I call you a ***** and you call me a liar.
These feelings I create because you provoke,
are the feelings which I have always spoke,
So don't be surprised,
when our love goes up in smoke.

Give me that piercing,
or that tat,
just make sure,
I don't look fat.
Let me puke a fountain like Niagara Falls,
just so I can fit in within these halls.
If I get a disapproving look,
it feels like a thousand knives stabbing me,
let me remain as a closed book,
so I can pique an interest in thee.
I am not me, what can I be?
I will not show you,
for fear of you mocking my plea.
So let me live my life so cold,
without finding myself as I grow old,
just to gain your appreciation,
while unknowingly causing self-deprivation.

There is no cold,
just lack of heat.
You are the sun,
and yet I still shiver.

To speak the truth is to offend,
but I do not have a kind word to lend,
as you scream and shout about my doubt,
expecting me to lie in order to please,
but I have no reason to appease.
In society the truth is cruel,
like how that homeless man smells like ****,
or how your still foolish, despite all the school,
but you must insist of living in a skit.
In this play everything is fine,
there are no stereotypes,
there are is no swine.
The fool in the corner was brought down hard,
by societies expectations, with which he was marred.

This is not the facts of life,
there is ******, ****, followed by strife,
people will **** for their own personal gain,
and when you want sun, it will often rain.
Some men work hard,
to see their life fall,
while others lay back,
and try to steal it all.
To recognize the truth is not a sin,
to bring it to our eyes is not offensive,
as we must learn to save other's skin,
instead of living life with only a grin.

Are our words not like a used up *****,
standing along over on 2nd street,
being used over and over,
like mashing a dead horses meat.
And as we insult, degrade and beat her,
until she is no longer wanted,
we only cause a stir,
and we walk away undaunted.
We do not look into the past,
unless it has a nostalgic feel,
nobody wanted her to last,
she was only a news stations spiel.
For our words reflect our past,
and the stories we tell of them,
but these stories will never last,
until we speak of a shining gem.

Let us walk on these streets of gold,
with a Cadillac and Ferrari on the side,
no one dares to be as bold,
as those who show their money with pride.
Keep walking down the way,
until the ground turns gray,
here we find the place of life,
cut apart with a knife.
The attitudes are dim,
the people are looking slim,
for they must continue on,
working on a lawn until they are long gone.
For they visit the golden street,
not to live, but to weep,
as they work to eat,
payed with lies and deceit.
Do we notice?
Do we care?
As their children lie naked and bare.
Do we help them?
Do we feed them?
Or do we just send a prayer?

The truth is...
I hate my poetry,
it weighs on me like a seven ton anvil.
Laughing and shouting out,
about my faults and doubts,
which stand tall before me.
But I am to vain,
to remove them from sight,
as I want everyone to see the rain.
The drought that is within,
can only be cured,
by the peeling of my old dead skin.
So to write it all out,
is to scrape it all off,
until it is as tall as a skyscraper.
As I keep writing the poems,
the building will sway,
until it will finally give away.
I will be crushed beneath the dust,
and no one will question the rust.
For they could see,
it tilt and fall,
until it crushed me,
under my self-righteous gall.

There is a shadow over my shoulder,
which follows me around.
I did not invite it,
nor will I fight it,
for it does not make a sound.
But even in the night,
when everything is out of sight,
I can feel it on my back.
with a whisper in my ear,
it instills fear,
of what I will never do.
The failures of life,
the constant strife,
which I face everyday.
I continue to walk,
as the shadow will stalk,
following like a tiger and prey.

I can never seem to finish a book,
I often get distracted you see,
another story will catch my eye,
and carry me out to sea.
This lack of consistency,
has put a fear in me,
that I cannot create my own.
For we have a story,
which has so much glory,
like the great loves we learn in class.
A man killing hundreds,
through a war of the worlds,
as he fights for the love of his life.
But what I worry,
is that in the great flurry,
our love; I will accidentally bury.

Looking at you as you lay asleep,
unsure of whether to smile or weep,
for my heart you will always keep,
for you are my shepherd and I am your sheep.
I will follow you until my feet run red,
and I will hold onto you until I am dead,
to leave you fills my heart with dread,
for you are the cure for the cancer in my head.
Your heart is like gold,
resistant to mold,
the cure that I need,
and am lucky enough to receive,
with all the love that you bleed,
to grant me my reprieve.
Words cannot fathom what you have done,
letting me live, as if I am someone.
Someone who deserves the love that you present,
when you are the one who deserves to be content.
So now that I am healed, alive and well,
I will cut out my heart and present it to you,
please do not mind the smell...
for it has been molded for as long as I can tell.
If you continue to scrub it clean,
for you and only you,
my heart will gleam.

You were stolen from me,
from under my nose,
I was not even looking,
I deserve it I suppose.
To think that I took you for granted,
having you by my side,
I used you as a source,
of my undeserved pride.
Now I have traveled to see you again,
and you lay next to me,
and I am free from this pain,
but to lose you soon,
would be blasphemy.
I will cut out the throat of any who come,
expecting to steal what I have won,
your heart is mine and I will keep it that way,
and with this love, your pain will allay.

Granting me one kiss,
places me in an eternal bliss,
reviving me like a flower in sunlight,
as it prepares me for my plight.
Life's plight which I face everyday,
as forces attempt to keep me at bay,
but the thought of you within my arms,
leads me to believe in life's charms.

But describing a kiss does not give you credit,
for what you have done to my soul,
this feeling is not something you can edit,
and without it my heart takes a toll.
And yet I cannot describe how I feel,
it is so much more than even-keel,
let me tell you my heart you did steal,
but on my end,
it is a pretty good deal.

As I lash out like a wave crashing upon the sand,
destroying the castles built by hand,
destroying moral like a warlord on a killing spree,
a nuclear explosion which no one can flee.
For nothing escapes my grasp,
as I am the infection which spreads so far,
choking your voice until it is merely a rasp.
Please remove me from your life,
as I am here only to cause strife,
like a cancer in your heart,
you can't quiet get out,
always wondering "when did it start?",
what caused this drought?

But do not fear,
for it is not your fault,
let me be clear,
I am like this by default.
So love me or leave me,
it is up to you,
but you can not change me,
for I am evil through and through.

I have a sickness,
which is contagious,
spreading with quickness,
which is outrageous.
Every person I look upon,
is struck with the feelings of hate,
soon these feelings will be gone,
as someone else carries this weight.
Is there a cure for what I feel?
Must i react with such zeal?

Fake it until you make it,
and you will go far,
you have done this "a thousand times",
in every bar.
You are an actor, governor, a poet,
and you know it,
Approach each boy and girl,
as if you are the shiniest pearl.
Some may notice your dull gleam,
but the rest will see you as a dream.
Fake it until you make it,
and success will follow,
the longer you go,
you will be less hollow.

I am a man,
who has no plan,
living life with the flow of the breeze,
swaying to the side from the smallest sneeze.
Yet I find happiness in every turn,
uninhibited by every burn,
because as I explore life's great wonders,
and learn from all my blunders,
I gain knowledge which I never knew,
and all of it leads me to you.

We act so original,
but are so abysmal,
stop with the dramatization of your woe,
there are so many like you, as we know.
It's pathetic the way in which we perceive ourselves,
different, charismatic, on an unheard of level,
but we are just another item on the shelves,
yet we continue to look in the mirror and revel.
Take a look out the door,
realize there is so much more,
to being a human being,
than fighting to be a king.
It does not matter how you are distinct,
or in what ways someone is the same,
by being human we are all linked,
and you are not better by gaining fame.

Think of the ones who live below us,
who survive only because of natures good graces,
the ones who live in an abandoned bus,
and are always seen as basket cases.
We do not look upon their eyes,
and realize that we are the cause of their demise,
as we make savings by buying more,
and taking advantage of those that are poor.
Though this does not come into our heads,
as we sleep soundlessly, comfortably, in our beds,
for every rich man there are hundreds in the street,
who wear tattered clothes, and no shoes on their feet.
Will we live our life treating them as obsolete,
just so we can check out a celebrities tweet?
Or will we rise above our selfish desires,
and pull these poor men through the fires,
feeding and caring for people we do not know,
just to keep them out of the snow.

Stand up and fight,
you coward,
you wimp.
Will you let them beat you,
as you lay there limp.
Or will you just wait until it is over,
and then pray for a four leaf clover.
Your luck has run out,
but that is only your fault,
you only lay and pout,
and take the assault.
You do not deserve the dreams you have,
when all the effort you put in, is only half,
So stand up and fight,
you coward,
you wimp,
for if you fail now,
you will never survive,
if you do not take that dive.

Laying here like a stone in a stream,
water rushes over, wearing me away.
I attempt to stay and be resilient,
but I am dwindling in size,
and losing power.
I am lifted and sent along the stream,
crashing and tumbling so that I become obscene,
finally falling down the falls,
while I find myself at the bottom of the water,
content with myself, despite the calls,
watching the rest be drawn to the slaughter.