The man in my head.

The man in my head makes it impossible for me to beloved,
Because by his standards, no man is ever enough.
From his looks to his intelligence, to his passions to his names
All other men are commoners to this beauty in my brain.
I know what job he has, how many kids he wants.
I know his life plans and where we will reside.

The light.

I had a random thought this morning...

'If I commit suicide, will people see me as selfish?'

Will they say things like, 'nothing seemed like it was wrong.' or 'She was happy, I don't know why she could've done it.'

Sometimes, us 'friends' are the selfish ones. You never take time to see past your problems and ask what was going on with them. You fail to see the fake smiles and cried out eyes. You made them feel invisible. 

Take for instance my blog. Most of my poems are reflections of my inside. In that they are my feelings in words. Or an exaggeration. I've read back on a few and thought... 'Damn, gurl, you were in a dark place.'
But no one knew this. Why, because the people that checked the blog weren't looking for that, and the people who could see it, weren't checking the blog.

Write way to Write.

Oh, I do love the knocks of a keyboard, 
the fingers reach out and pull back to their base
Or the speedy little melody, 
created by the rapid dance of the thumb on the keypad
How technology makes it so sweet.