Love is happy
Love is sad
Love is pain, that can drive you mad

Happy is joy
Happy is bliss
Happy is something, you will definitely miss

Sad is gloom
Sad is near
Sad will eventually disappear

Pain is memories
Pain is clear
Pain is someone, you lost most dear

Love is life
Life is love
Love can be what you make of

A little bee, that's what I am
visiting your picnic, on that juicy piece of ham.
People don't notice, not even give me a glance
until they bring their food up, to be pierced on their lance.

I buzz and scream all around,
"What are you doing? Have I not been found?"
When they hear the boisterous mighty roar,
they act all scared, almost fell to the floor.

As they swat and flap their giant wings,
this chaotic mess is the stupidest of all things.
Away I go, back to my humble nest,
to relay to the others, "I did my best."

Out of the frying pan and into the fire,
as I got back, it seemed quite dire.
Perched on two legs, the bear disturbed our work,
while thinking to myself, "Man, what a ****!"

Here's a tale of a young lad,
who left his home in great speed.
He yearned for adventure that lied ahead,
and come back a hero to kiss his newly wed.

His mother wept, cried, and begged,
to convince her boy to return.
The bus had left on it's way,
her only boy, had gone away.

Over the blue wet expanse
to a treacherous place in the east;
a place of hell, torment, and torture
no man could believe the rupture.

Now this lad in his squad
built a bond, that rendered to a family.
Their objective was to capture a town,
to help relieve this land, and conquer the fake-crown.

Push they did, little by little
fought like they were trained to do;
steaming guns, loud banged grenades,
they came out victorious, from the fray.

The lad's squad split in two,
some got to leave, and others stayed.
Fighting on, they pushed and shoved,
trying to get back to the ones they loved.

On the cargo plane, the other half rode,
the lad comfortably resting with the others
Over to hell, to fight and slay,
finally coming back to the USA.

The plane landed, screeching to a halt
on the pavement they've been waiting to see.
They had an undying love for their country and brothers,
praying and hoping to see their mothers.

The sound of silence fell around them all,
as they left the cargo plane.
Mothers stood next to their children
wishing all of this could be undone.

The mothers looked down on their heroes,
for the heroes were doing the same.
Women were hugging, crying, and mourning
the caskets that left an eternal sting.

The clouds wept over the pain
to ease the feelings that no one should endure.
For these brave men and women up above
are forever with them, flying high like a dove.

Won might axe, "What is the mind?"
It tells you two think...act...or find.
Think of memories, that strain the hart,
Or act ridiculous, like making a ****!

"Find what?" People shall inquire.
"Four all of these miss steaks, written with know desire?"
But think twice, thrice, why not mice?
For this poem was written to give you spice.

The mind you sea, can make cents from error.
The mind can bee a place of terror.
Please do not be afraid, if eye must say.
For the monsters inside can stay at bey.

The fear within can be a hindrance.
Especially, when safety is off inn the distance.
Sow why does your mind keep you back?
You can't get away! You're always under attacked!

The answer is knot what you always feel.
No, it's not even complicated like making a deal.
For if you look deep down inside.
It's just your emotions, trying to hide.

Let's think a bout this, it's quite simple.
Like finding that stoopid annoying pimple.
You mite be the type to complain and blame.
**** your delicate mind is just a game.

Fall pray to it's claws, and you will lose.
In reality, it's only a ruse.
It will toss, turn, and try too undermine.
In order to win, you must mine the mind.

Dig in the depths of this vast beautiful world.
For you are the one that made it unfurled.
The only difference between yours and mine,
Is that I have mine, and yours is perfectly fine.