Is a stranger
Still a stranger
Even when
they have made a impact on you life
Even when
They saved you from the dark
Even when
You know them
What they want to do with their life
What makes them happy
What makes feel free

Makes one wonder
What makes a person a stranger?
Is it that you havent seen their shell?
Is it that you cant be sure you can trust them?

If this is the definition of a stranger
Then I could consider half of my family
As strangers
Half my "friends"
Are Strangers

The google definition of a stranger
"a person whom one does not know
or with whom one is not familiar."

If this is the case...
A Stranger is really...

A potential Friend
         or
            A potential Enemy
                     or
                        Maybe
                           A Potential Love

Of storm and chaos and desire,
The King shall be born and fed,
Destined to reveal such power,
That's known not to mortal men.

His cradle shall be a shield,
The King shall cry in it alone,
A sword his toddler hand shall wield,
Pain shall be his early throne.

His parents will be his killers,
Poison shall be mothers milk,
Gravestones will be ornate mirrors,
Thorns and iron will be silk.

He'll never know no gold nor kingdom,
He'll never know no woman's love!
His bethrothed a firey demon,
His enemy- God above!

His master shall be The Raven,
Carrying a ring of gold,
It's wings show the only way and,
Keys to the throne of old.

His servants will be all men and women,
Yet no kingdom he will rule,
His courts empty, no one in them,
He's his own squire, page and fool.

The Raven king shall spread his wings,
Yet the blind will call it war,
The storm that his crown will bring,
It brewed in the planet's core.

He'll never rest nor stop ascending,
He'll never know but grief and pain,
But he will be unrelenting,
The King of his soul and his name!

trust that you can,
learn to be motivated
believe in your potential
and love to thrive.

She smiles when she's happy and doesn't think much about the simple action
but when she smiles, she has power that she has no idea of
when she smiles, she can make the moon shine brighter
when she smiles, she can make bitter old men remember the gift of happiness
when she smiles, she can stop hearts from bleeding
when she smiles, the fall night air smells even crisper
when she smiles, she has my curiosity at what she smiles at
she has this much control with just a simple action
but she does not realize her potential because she doesn't notice....
or maybe she doesn't want to notice

You don't realize it,
But I do.
I know a comet when I see one.
I know power when I see it.
You may not have seen her full potential now,
She may have looked weak and dim,
Just a streak and then she's gone,
But you'll see.
When she comes around again
Her light will sear your eyes.
She will burn
Bright and hot.
She isn't a mirage, a fluke in our minds.
She's a powerhouse
And when she returns, she'll be ready
To kindle her flames
And live.

Chew me, will you?
Chew me, won't you?
Wedge me 'tween two
wine-stained yahoos.
Soak my core through
scaly beast, You!

Look at me.

I've become so theatrical, lying here, drowning in oddments and drool. How long now have I rotted in the eves I've missed, ****** away paths and pavements creeping like mold over my timber skin.

To think, I could have been a Great American Novel, a Wonder, a Classic. My torso might have melted the hearts of millions, the fingers of my web might have crawled carefully down their backs, spinning - oh so suddenly - a twist into their spines, while they themselves press loving, thrilling craters into mine.

I might have swept up her posthumous time machine and his mad spiral from the clouds in the booming wood and brass of one tender-fingered soldier's Trojan triumph over death and his countrymen.

But here I am, a Janitor, an Afterthought. Sweating in my splintered coat, stabbing at wet hunks of lamb that shamelessly remind me of how Wasteful I am.

Flapping wings
will deliver me
nowhere
until my toes
release their
white-knuckles
from the dirt.