Weakness they thought, as they were boys
Silence it was, as he was a man.

Vengeance they sought, as they were boys
Forgiveness he had , as he was a man.

Popularity they craved, as they were boys
Respect he had , as he was a man .

Talk they did, as they were boys
Actions he took, as he was a man.

The society made a shell around him , trying to keep him a boy, All filled with ego,insecurity,show off,anger,hatred.
Courage it took , to break the shell and
                        BE A MAN

I was swimming in a new headspace when you jumped in with three words. I hope you realize soon they weren't true. Did your mother never tell you not to dive into the shallow end? I guess not. You're so used to leaping into what's shallow you don't even know you deserve better. But, what is really sad is they don't know either.

I didn't. But now I do.

Playmates
by Michael R. Burch

WHEN you were my playmate and I was yours,
we spent endless hours with simple toys,
and the sorrows and cares of our indentured days
were uncomprehended . . . far, far away . . .
for the temptations and trials we had yet to face
were lost in the shadows of an unventured maze.

Then simple pleasures were easy to find
and if they cost us a little, we didn't mind;
for even a penny in a pocket back then
was one penny too many, a penny to spend.

Then feelings were feelings and love was just love,
not a strange, complex mystery to be understood;
while "sin" and "damnation" meant little to us,
since forbidden cookies were our only lusts!

Then we never worried about what we had,
and we were both sure—what was good, what was bad.
And we sometimes quarreled, but we didn't hate;
we seldom gave thought to the uncertainties of fate.

Hell, we seldom thought about the next day,
when tomorrow seemed hidden—adventures away.
Though sometimes we dreamed of adventures past,
and wondered, at times, why things couldn't last.

Still, we never worried about getting by,
and we didn't know that we were to die . . .
when we spent endless hours with simple toys,
and I was your playmate, and we were boys.

This is probably the poem that "made" me, because my high school English teacher called it "beautiful" and I took that to mean I was surely the Second Coming of Percy Bysshe Shelley! "Playmates" is the second poem I remember writing; I believe I was around 13 or 14 at the time. It was originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: playmates, boys, children, schoolmates, schoolboys, friendship, toys, playthings, fate, destiny, adventures, death, mortality

Don’t let something like a boy drive you crazy
Soon it’ll turn you boy crazy

It’s not health to obsess over it
People will think your crazy

Some even find it unattractive
I think it’s just crazy

Something that’s forced
Can turn crazy

Love takes time
Don’t force it, give it time, it’ll be less crazy

Sometimes you think it’ll never come
But that’s someone thinking crazy

When people grow obsessed
They’re asking for the mayhem known as crazy

Amy says, let love take its time
Don’t force it, don’t turn crazy

freckles scattered across your cream-white cheeks, moonlight peeking through the curtain forming shadows on your skin.
my head lifts up from between your long legs, desperately wanting you in.
the look of pleasure and regret in your sea blue eyes, a storm brewing between your thighs.
an ongoing up and down motion, your pretty hands squeeze the sheets. wind rustles through your dark brown curls, both of our hearts skip beats.
long dark eyelashes surround those pleading eyes, eyelids flickering, your hips slowly rise.
light soft breaths escape your baby pink lips, exploding in my mouth and down my throat it drips.
your head falls back onto a crumpled white sheet, the motion of my tongue leaves you beat.

To all the boys who have ruthlessly clinged themselves upon me, forcing me to make room for them, demanding me to fit into their dreams of me, expecting me to perform, wanting me to take them in.

To all the boys who have made me change for them, rushed my development, taking me out into the wilderness, so far away that I no longer could find my way back home.

To all of you who have shaped me into who I am today, leaving me less naive, so careful of others' feelings after learning to put theirs ahead of my own.

To all of you who have left me shining from all the love, more in touch with my feelings and my gut, a bit harder but beautiful in the adore from your eyes.

To all of you - I am done. I have nothing left to say to you, I've already thought it all. But to myself - I made it home. Bruised, scared and scarred but I made it. And even though it isn't what it used to be, I'm still back and the next time I go, it will be when I want to go and not because of a stupid boy.

You liked that I was different,
But then you left me for the most ordinary girl.
I guess I was just too different for you.
I wish I was ordinary.