You spread like
A wildfire inside my soul.
I breathe you in,
But you choke me as I let you go.

You shine in my darkness,
But you burn me with the sunlight.
You give me wings,
But they're broken and I can't fly.

You chain me up
Still you gave me the key.
But my hands are tied,
And I can't break free.

A very rich man
Came walking down the street.
He saw a lowly begger
Clinging to his feet.
"Spare some change sir?"
He said with no remorse or shame.
"For just a dollar I'll share my story
And you will know my name!"
The rich man, annoyed, shoved him
"I'm very late! I've no time to debate!"
And he went on his way.

But little did he know
He would meet the man again
On the very next day.
"Spare some change?
I now have asked you twice!
For just a dollar I will share
Some friendly advice."
Again, the rich man angered
Shoved him and went about his way.
Little did he know
He would lose his job that very day.

In few months time,
He was down to his last dime,
Little did he know
He would meet the man one final time.
"Spare some change?
I'll never ask again!
And I will tell you
How we are the same within!"

The once rich man
Tossed his dime
On the ground next to him.
"Alright!" He cried.
"I'm giving up the fight!
Do tell what about me
Has captured your delight!"

The beggar laughed.
"So easily you forget!
Tell me has it crossed your mind
That we have somewhere met?"
The man puzzled for a moment
About the people he had known before.
The strangers on the street,
The beggars at his feet,
Or the salesmen that came in numbers
And showed up at his door.

"Say no more,"
The beggar sighed.
"I can see you don't recall
My name is Fred,
You would know me more instead
If I still worked in a suit and tie.
You couldn't recognize me,
Because you couldn't
See yourself in my position.
But now you do, and so it's true
That we're only the same
In certain situations."

"So what about the lesson?"
The man asked.
"What about that crack?
"I learned that when you fired me,
When the world has taken everything,
The only thing to do
Is to take something back!"

People are angels who have not yet learned to fly.

Some people get butterflies
In their stomachs.
Others, however have moths.

It was the spring,
And it was love.
I was well of age
But remained a child
When it came to matters of love.
We spent our days
In the aroma
Of the greenest fields
Surrounded by the most
Well groomed flowers.
I had picked a flower for her that day.
The blossom in her hair
Has become a daily
Photograph in my mind.
The flower served as example.
For the reason that everything fades.
The flower, the spring, and love.
But also that whatever dies,
New life comes about.
There will always be
Another flower to be picked,
The spring shall come again,
And love is eternal.

Where others were,
I was not present.
While others spake,
I was silent.

As others were,
I was not.
And what others saw,
I could not bring myself to see.

At what age others were,
I remained a child.
And the things they so heard,
I had covered my ears.

While others loved,
And had shared love
With one another,
I loved alone.

I have always had a knack for eavesdropping.
Tho I am not in the least 
Fancied by the distant conversation.
The corresponding voice 
Of the majority's cry.
Place me in a situation,
Shrouding me 
Corrupting my sense. 
The constant laughter
By sounds unbearable 
The foreign words I cannot understand 
Tho do respect. 
The gentle voice enchants me so 
And am saddened by cries of woe
I look upon faces of different races
Precise to their own thoughts. 
My father told me long ago 
The curious eye does not go wanting
And the naked ear is evil. 
Such curious nature
Tho strictly forbade. 
I am bound by sand and sin 
Not to wander aimlessly into that distance. 
My thoughts indeed carry
By the countless tongue.
I hearken close to the strangers voice
To long for something to drown 
Out my own noise. 
In heed of advice only this.
For the unbirthed feeling to belong
And the fragment of admiration 
Lay gently upon my ear. ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​