These walls around me have ears,
And all the doors have eyes.
The trees have voices,
And the devil tells lies.
Blinking back tears
Fighting the urge to cry
Be careful for the snow
And beware the man
You think you know.

Be a writer who doesn't know where the next sentence will take her. A writer who focuses on her own self, studying her own brain. A writer whose heart is bursting with love and desire. A writer sly enough to give the clues to her secrets in the crevices of her pages. A writer whose words spread thought in others to give people a sense of purpose. But it's alright that she doesn't always know what she's thinking until she writes it. It's as if the words already exist somewhere and they just pour out of her thoughts. Be a writer whose mind is such a twisted place, crammed full of beauty, with darkness, the sun and a touch of madness.

I'm on my way to where I started
This lonely place I have found myself in
Has too many followers to a certain crowd
of society that only participlated people live in.
They surround themselves with what they call a feeling of being perfect.
We are not perfect people, no matter how hard we try to be. There will always be controversy over who's body shape is better than another's.
If life has taught me anything, is that we are all one being, one thought, all connected in nature. Falling in love with your spiritual being is one of the most important moments in ones life.
Accepting is something I as a person often struggle with. Accepting oneself is hard because people think they could read about it in a book or newspaper down at the local gas station. No accepting oneself is to be loving towards themselves by showing off all their beautiful features that people love about themselves. Being. Insecure is a normal thing that all of us go through but reaching acceptance is like another step towards ones path to enlightenment.
Expand the mind to its fullest capacity. Fill your brain with all the information in the world that you can read in the New York City library. Share a coffee with a complete stranger in a hole in the wall cafe down Main Street.  Tell them how you are on a journey to enlightenment and this is your stop along the way, meeting new people to truly find oneself. Taking notes of everyone you see with crazy colored hair like you. Tallying up the marks of girls you see walking in Central Park smoking American spirt cigarettes, cause you know you'd never quit.

Looking at you is like standing in an art museum starring at such a masterpiece. You are a work of art, from you're jawline to the tip of your fingers. You're eyes are this blue green color that remind me of the sea. People would call us sinners, ******* eachother with a simple stare. I can't help but to touch you, and I always crave to feel you're body touching mine. Crying the words I love you, while taking my hand in yours and kissing it softly is how I lost myself in you're voice. Following the sweet sound of the melodies you sing I wander off to dream.

"How could you do this?" She looked at him in disbelief. Tears forming in his eyes, he looked at her with love and said "darling, I love you but I have to set you free."

She's the girl who only drinks black coffee
And smokes menthol cigarettes
With her lipstick staining the filter
She laughs at corny jokes
And dances in the rain
until her hair is soaking wet
She's the girl who listens to birds singing
In the mornings before spring
And writes poetry about heartbreaks
She is the storm before a hurricane