They sit opposite each other,
So obviously disparate.
But there really isn't another,
If either one you separate.

One sits on the left,
Practical and strategic,
Seeming cold and bereft,
The voice of logic.

A master of language and words,
Loves accuracy and the familiar.
Maybe the king of nerds,
Will always categorize and be linear.

On the right sits the other,
A free spirit and passionate,
With the roar of laughter,
Ability to energize and elate.

Creative and with boundless imagination,
Leaves no canvas empty,
And with feel and sensation,
Gives art and poetry.

Does it not seem like they don't belong,
That the relationship may be in vain.
But that is where you are wrong,
Because they are the two sides of your brain.

Such a beauty that they work in unison,
Despite being so different.
So why can't that be our vision,
For the world instead of the discord we rent.

You may make fun of me,
Not knowing who I really am.
But that won't  change who I'll be,
Because frankly I don't give a ****.

A  **** about all the jokes,
A **** about being left alone,
A **** about all the hoax,
About all the sticks and stones.

So as much as you're gonna try,
To get me down in the dumps,
You know what will get me by?
Knowing that I'm better than you chumps.

So go ahead and make yourselves,
Fell better by making fun.
And when some of you end up cleaning dishes,
I'll be number one.

I have my faults and you,
Definitely have yours too.
If you feel better picking on mine,
Then best of luck to you.

Because frankly I don't give a ****,
A **** about the jokes,
I don't really give a **** about being left alone,
About all the hoax or sticks and stone.

I'll be number one honeys,
Then you will finally see,
The one you thought was funny,
Is better than all of you can be.

Weary from the days trials,
You try to sleep dear child.
Mind wandering a thousand miles,
But no rest in the time away you wiled.

Hope my comforting voice,
And the warmth of your bed,
Gives you well deserved repose,
As on the pillow you lay your head.

Let no worries bother you,
This is the time for slumber.
And if that doesn’t help too,
You can count the sheep by number.

Looks like you went off to dreamland,
So I will say good night.
Hope you dream, of sun and sand,
And wake up to morning light.

Love you, I will always
Hope that makes you smile.
This ends another one of those days,
So I will talk to you in a while!

Heard the rustling of track pants,
It brings out agility I did not know.
Just to avoid the annoying rants,
I quickly shut and bolt the door.

The whining of my name begins,
And my hands itch to slap,
His face or break his shins,
But I pretend to take a nap.

He keeps banging at my door,
No choice but to let him in.
Spoilt ****** child to the core,
If I rid the world of him, is it a sin?

I dread to let him sit,
His *** will glue onto the spot.
I dream of throwing him in a pit,
And just leaving him there to rot.

The sadistic pleasure I feel,
When he is bestowing unto others,
With what I must everyday deal,
Like an unbreakable curse.

At first I am a single stick,
Made of simply wax and wick,
When exposed to just a spark,
I glow for hours in the dark.

I glow and glow but after that,
My wax flows down and forms a mat,
Every minute, more wax flows,
And every minute, the little mat grows.

In olden days I used to glow,
To provide warmth from the snow.
I also glowed to give some light,
To frightened people in the night.

Now technology had usurped my right
But when it fails, it’s me you light.
And then every minute, more wax flows,
And every minute, the little mat grows.

Little by little my height goes down,
The wax dried around me like a gown.
And then at last I am but a pool of wax,
And little ash from what in wick my body lacks.

But while I burn by flame with flair,
I am glad that I have served somewhere.
For every minute, more wax flows,
And every minute, the little mat grows.

This is what I do for you,
What I was made to do.
But handle me with care,
For I am fragile and bare.

A candle’s story now you have heard,
And it may sound absurd,
But in my short life every minute more wax flows,
And every minute the little mat grows.

How best to say sorry to you,
I know not how to do
So I will do it in the only way I know how,
This poem unto you I endow.

I feel so undeserving and useless,
They are my insecurities not your faults,
My life to me is a big mess,
So I resign to cutting the cords.

I lash out for silly things,
And hang on to anger to help me through,
Even if it hardly stings,
I didn’t mean to hurt you.

This, the corniest thing you have gotten,
But what can I do,
My only ally is the pen,
To say sorry to you.

I’m lying on the bed,
Not knowing what to do,
The door down the hallway closes,
And I know that it’s you.

I think about our fight,
It was my fault and yours too,
But now I want to make it right,
But I don’t know how to.

My mind is in turmoil,
It finally decides.
I’m outside the door trying to hear,
What I can’t see with my eyes.

I hear the rustle of the sheets,
I think I hear a sigh,
My imagination conjures scenes,
But then I hear you cry.

I can’t take it anymore,
Letting you be so depressed,
I bust through the door,
Your face against the pillow is pressed.

Gently I lay a hand,
On the small of your back.
I pull you into my embrace,
So you know that there’s nothing you lack.

I slowly kiss those tears away,
And then those pretty eyes too.
I hold you so tight and before I know,
I’m getting kissed passionately by you.

All the anger is forgotten,
And the heat takes control.
As our lips meld to one,
I once again feel whole.

Our bodies against each other,
The world becomes so distant,
As we undress together,
I know you are all that I want.

The moment we shared,
Leaves nowhere to hide,
Again I’m lying on the bed,
But now with you by my side.