All good things
Come to an end.
All good mornings
Turn to noon,
All good suns
Make room for their moons.
All good things
Others can rend.

All bad things
Come to an end.
All bad nights
Change to the morn,
All bad fights
Hear their finishing horn.
All bad things
A heart can mend.

Death?
Hah.
You know nothing of it.
It's your only destination,
So why do you fear it?

Life?
What is the meaning of life?
It's a train that can seem to go on forever,
Or seem to be the shortest ride ever.

The Reaper?
He sells you the tickets.
He draws you in.
But it's your choice which ticket to take.

Your Destination?
Look at your ticket.
What does it say,
my friend?

If it's the Wasteland,
I feel sorry for you.
It burns like Hell
And goes on for an eternity.

But, hey, it was your choice.
Your choice to steal the money,
Your choice to lie.
Your choice to make
Someone else's life
The Misery you'll experience
Forevermore.

You ride first-class,
Among many others
Who did things
Possibly worse than your own sins,
But ended up a success in the eyes of man.
Someone can change your ticket for free if you want,
But you have to give up your ways.

You find a sort of Primal lust of pleasure there,
and you most likely won't want to change your ticket until it's too late.

If your destination is The Manor,
Keep it up!
You are luckier than the others...
You ride coach,
True,
But make sure your eyes don't stray towards those
Who seem more fortunate.
They won't show you their tickets,
Because they're ashamed a bit that they chose it,
And the fact they're headed elsewhere from you.

But,
They treat you with disrespect,
With hatred.
This is because they envy you.
They envy your striving to be as pure,
As innocent as a person can be.

Do not read their actions as you being filth.
Nor treat them as they treat you,
Or you may become one of them yourself.
Your destination is peaceful,
Despite your mistreatment on the ride there.
Treat them as good as you would your friends,
Because although their ride may be pleasant,
Their destination is lacking.

As I stare into coach,
It looks so empty.
There are few people there on this train.
I hope to get my ticket changed.

-How about you?

A Love Poem.
Purposeless,
yet made for a purpose.
The product of an obsessive mindset.
I hate them.
They are not straightforward.
Desperate
Are they who write them in
Metaphors,
Which at some point have
An ending.
'My Love is deeper than the sea'.
That may be...
But there are things
Deeper than the sea
Which we may never know.
What if it doesn't work, my friend?
You just sing the same verse,
Different tune,
To another.
A Love Poem.

Dear feminism,
You're doing it wrong.
Showcasing your gender
in physical form
does not open awareness
of a woman's
mental
and
emotional
wealth.
It merely confirms
misogynist thoughts.
If you want
to make a point,
don't generalize your targets
as pigs.
Rather,
express what makes women valuable.
Men can be deeper
than your delusions
let you know.

----------

Dear homosexual male community,
I am repulsed
that people can
associate me
with you.
Emotion
or thought
or open-mindedness
or expressiveness
should not denote
****** orientation.
I love women to the point
that I am overly chivalrous;
why should me
being in touch
with my emotions
or being different
than the
'male status quo'
change my sexuality?

P.S. - Homophobia is fear of homosexuals,
not,
as you'd havepeople believe,
the dislike or refusal
to treat the act as natural.

P.P.S. - The way
you portray yourselves,
you are still straight,
you only prefer your
women
to have a ***** attached.

----------

Dear fellow men,
A lot of you are
perverted.
You focus on
superficial things;
the *****,
the rear,
the hair color,
the eyes,
the shape...
For what purpose?
It is the mind
and the personality
that matter most.
It is because of you
that women have
painted our gender
as monsters,
pigs,
rapists.
And many of you are,
because,
in your minds,
can the women give any consent?

I know I'm not the best.
Not the best at
Loving, fighting, living, giving.
Living a life hidden in shyness
And a lack of courage.

And I know I don't deserve you.
You are perfect,
Like an Angel
Untouched
Uneffected.

And I know you don't deserve me.
No.
You deserve something more.
One who'd die for you,
Like myself,
But exists on your higher plane.

And I know I am stuck
here, down on Earth,
Getting what I do deserve,
Harsh, threatening words from those I pass.
I walk on
As if I don't hear them,
But I take all their slings and arrows
Unarmored and exposed.
If I truly deserve anything
I deserve something less.
It is only by God's grace I am
Human.

I have undoubtable proof
There is a God;
Without him,
I'd be an ant
Trampled upon by all above me.

You are so far above me
I can't see you clearly,
Which just shows
You deserve something more.

Something more than shy
Something more than a coward
And something more
Than a human
Exposed to the slings and arrows of bitter fortune.

This is for you,
The one who has yet
To hurt me;
The one who honestly
Seems to care.

This is for you,
The sole hope I hold.
This is for you,
The heart made of gold,
Who has yet to abandon.

I'm sure you will
In the future,
But for now,
This is for you.

While I loathe
Your indecisiveness to love,
I love
Your drive to stay beside me,
Assuming it's not from pity,
But from genuine caring.

This is for you,
A poem of appreciation.
Thank you for casting
Light on my darkness
When no-one else's
Was to be found.

Here's hoping
The dark won't take me
After you're gone.

This is for you.
I love your soul.
I love your mind.
Too bad minds
Always change
Like the old cogs
Of a clock.

This is for you.
Time is not on my side,
But I'm glad you are,
This time.