"We accept the love we think we deserve"
you deserve better than I can give you
I deserved better then what he could give me
we accept anyway

I loved him
but he crushed me
he crushed my weak heart
the heart which I had spent so long
tying and chaining to my own chest
which i ripped away
and cried in pain as i shyly looked away
and handed it to him
He took it.
he never understood how hard it was
for me to give it to him
He took it.
He crushed it anyway
and bruised it
and mangled it
so it hurt
even when it didn't.
it hurt
to be alive
but i deserved it right?
i deserved him right?

you love me
but why I don't know
you dont see my scars
I cannot make myself show them to you
I  know you would understand
I know you would hold me when I cried
as I told you
and that's what I'm afraid of
I cant give you what you deserve
and i know it crushes you
but you never say
you hold my hand
through the torture
as I crush you
because my scars are too deep to show
you deserve to know
Why Can't I let you in?
I am afraid that I dont deserve what you're giving me
because I dont
because im crushing you

Im so sorry
Im sorry I thought I deserved him
And he broke me
I now I dont deserve you
because I'm broken

nobody want the broken toy

My small hips
Unfeminine
My height
Unfeminine
My broad shoulders
Unfeminine
My blonde, short eyelashes
Unfeminine
My straight legs
Unfeminine

my strength
Unfeminine
my intelligence
Unfeminine
my strong voice
Unfeminine

Don't leave me
Who do you think you are?
You'd be nothing without me
Don't you dare leave me
You know I'm everyone's favorite place
Why should you be any different
Sincerely,
Your comfort zone

I am the container, the glass house in life
I'm fragile and bleed at the end of a knife
I'm also an outlet, a way to express
The one labouring to clean any mess
The pack mule to this game
The one to physically bear the pain
I'm overworked and under-appreciated
The only connection to the outside
Because I work as a shield against it
I have ragged and punched, laughed, and cried
I take the abuse and protect everything inside
I am, The Body

But what would life be without feeling?
A meaningless thing forever reeling.
I am the meaning, I find it in everything
I am the reason for the body’s being
I find beauty in almost every place
The body's my cage, I'm encased
I feel love, hate, and sympathy
A body cannot compete with me
I pump, I beat, I am the center of life
Art, happiness, pain, and strife
Are all things I feel and beat for
All things I wish to feel more
Without me
Life would cease to be
They call me
The heart

Although the body is the vessel
And the beat of the heart is essential
My pristine thoughts reign Supreme
The logical analyzer to this being
I am the true controller
The undeniable all-knower
The silly heart dabbers in petty things
While I know best about everything
The drone of a body needs my command
In order to react, feel, or stand
My impulses and neurons reside
as the head of all muscles inside
I am capable of miraculous lengths
My tissue is competent for amazing strengths
Throughout life I have had names of all kind
But my preferred entitlement is, The Mind

Physical presence is a wondrous thing
but its dying, weak, and fleeting
Have you forgotten why you breath?
Is it really that hard to conceive?
Life is discouraging but inner peace is true
The safe haven you seek has always been inside you
Spiritually there is more than meets the eye
Something that gives you life before you die
For centuries mankind has tried to solve this mystery
What energy leaves the dead behind in a cemetery?
What is life? What does it mean?
The heart, the mind, and the body?
Is that really all there can be?    
No my friends..... Remember me?
The light inside of this entity
The whisper bringing breath to the eyes
The warmth inside the heart to surprise
The essence of life before its taken its toll
I am love, I am spirit, I am The Soul.

I am afraid of stepping in the sand.
                                       For I am afraid of the mark I will leave.

                                    I am uncertain of the imprint I will make.
                                      And I am afraid of what it would mean.
                                                           ­  Perhaps,
                                         It will be small and insignificant.
                                                Ju­st a pathetic footprint,
                                     That the wind will blow away with time.

                                                          ­ Forgotten.
                                                      ­        Erased.
                                                 ­     Never to have been.
                                            
              ­                            I am afraid of disturbing the sand.
                                           Thousands of tiny rocks, moved
                                                           ­    By me.
                                           What if move them the wrong way?
                                               Is there even room for me,
                                            Amongst the sea of small stones?
                                                         ­         Or,
                                           What if I take my first step and fall?
                                           Thats not the mark I want to leave.
                                        Thats not how I want to be remembered.
                                          

         ­                                 Someday, I will have to take that step.
                                            Afterall, we all must move forward.
                                                But I dread the day I must go,
                                               And venture out into the desert,
                                                         ­  For I am afraid.
                                      

                                                 What if the sand is too hot?
                                                Perhaps, it will burn my toes.
                                                      What if I’m too weak?
                                                  
        ­                                      What if I go the wrong way?
                                                  And my footprint points,
                                                   in the wrong direction?
                                          What if others will follow my steps?
                                                          ­ If I was lost,
                                         I wouldn’t want them to be lost too.
                                                      

    ­                                                      It takes thought,
                                          How will I step on this sand of time?

                                                          ­Will I tiptoe on,
                                                            C­autiously,
                                                   Just enjoying the walk,
                                                        And­ be at peace
                                             Knowing my steps won’t last?
                                                           ­        Or,
                                             Should I jump, at the risk of falling?
                                       And engrave a mark that the world will feel
                                                And keep for years to come,
                                              Like the fossils in a museum?


                                                       ­    Either way,
                                                       I will still be afraid.

They are strange things; strangers.....
There are so many of them

Yet,  although these strangers are strange to me
To you they may be a friend

They are a strange species; these strangers
They overpopulate almost every place

Yet, they go about living similar lives of their own
Each one with a different story or face

Strangely, we are taught not to talk to strangers
And trained to avoid them

Yet, each one, whether strange or not,
Is, strangely enough, a person.

Strange is the way we feel about strangers
We fear them because we do not know them

Yet, these strangers are unknown to us
Because we choose not to know them

What strange mystery these strangers possess
Each one of them has a life,
A secret,
A past,
And a name
Just like us....

Yet, we label them as strange.

Yes, strange thing; these strangers

Yet,
The strangest strange
Is that, strangely enough,
We are all strangers.

I'm taking
You're giving
You're my solitude
For living

You are my peace
When i'm at war
You're my love
The one I adore

You're the color
In my face
You're the blood
That runs through my veins

I never thought
I'd be blessed
But only the good
Get the best.

I came so dark
carrying misery on my back
My heart shattered
My soul black

I looked for meaning
and had no response
The life i was leading
for me was to long

Then one day
came a bright light
Telling me there was no need
for me to fight

I came to you
and you to I
You make me feel
No need to die

I've had a grudge, for many years
and i cried so many unworthy tears

You make me feel, the purpose of life
and ended my grief, as well as my strife.