People think they know my story,
They don't.
You see they don't ask me, they don't talk to me.
We are all strangers for what?
There are billions of people and we only know a handful.
I want to be known by that big count of people,
But not judged or criticized for what I do.
Its my life let me live it,
Mistakes or success I'll learn to be a better person,
Why hurt others?
All you have to do is be happy smile and laugh at everything.
I dare you to simply say hello to someone you see,
You could change there whole day by simply acknowledging them.
And sometimes you will lose people by cause of death
by different outlooks in life.
All I ask of you to do is care a little more about others.
For the kids being picked on stand up to the bully's,
Become a hero in someones eyes,
All I want to do is be someones hero or role model just to be looked up too
It would make me feel wanted, needed.
Maybe one day you'll remember and notice me.

To infinity and beyond isn't just a saying for me, it's a life goal.

Love most have died centuries ago
She died with Juliet and Romeo
Now her bones lay dust infested
Romeo's to the left
Juliet's to the right.
Wishing they discussed,
Try to figure out how it all turned sour.

If love is dead,
Who or what are we then?
Excavators, that's who we are
Digging furiously, who cares how far
The grave of the duo love birds must be near
Find it, find love at its undiluted sphere.

Enveloped in this fantasies box
Love becomes no more than a hoax
Love is what it is
A beautiful broken bike if you please
Its too dangerous to ride
Yet no choice but the ride
So if you must, put on your safety gear.

Love does not live inside TVs
Nor magazines
She has left the internet and movies
She now lives in the simplicity of you and I.

You may have looked too hard
Yet you still can't find.
This you must figure out
You are looking in the wrong sites.

This notebook and I share a secret,
which I will never reveal.

This notebook, on the other hand,
has at times sleighted me slightly.

This notebook is not to be trusted,
for if I trust it, I may be betrayed.

This notebook and I share a secret;
it will never be told lest I talk.

His name purred on her lips; 
She loved the way it
Rolled around on her tongue,
Loosened her vocal chords 

Every time she said 
his name aloud,
It felt as though she were 
Becoming more and more
Well versed in him; 
His character,
His very being

These are all just bad beginnings
in my search for a show-stopper,
a jaw-dropper,
trying to be just the right balance
of sarcastic and lovely,
the right balance of writer
that I idealize and am not,
of course,
what am I, a narcissist?

I'm trying to put into words
the feelings I told you I danced
because they are wordless (spaceful)
and because of you
I have to say them with voice;
what a dilemma is this--

That when I tell you with movement
what I can't say
you put me in the place
of having to voice it and now
I have no words
other than bad beginnings.

So is that it?
When I word to you
instead of dance for you (for me?)
what you have to return is a nothing,
a less-than-nothing saying,
saying nothing, leaving me

hurt and confused because
maybe there was a something
in all your nothing that I can't find--
because we are dealing in words now,
and I'm a movement reader.

And I know I will forgive you for this
but I won't forgive me for knowing that.

Even while I'm still so angry, it just reveals
my pathetic (patient?) desperation for your love,

But I didn't say this right.
I need to move (dance) this.