For you, for you I write.
I see you truly understand my country.
I see you truly understand its good.
I see you cannot see a single one of its flaws.
I see you believe in what America once stood.

Trust me, I wish I could see it too,
But I must write these odes,
I must criticize.
I must tear the fabric of our nation apart.
So that way it will be stitched back together
The right way
And you will still have your rest.

The fanatic raises his weapon high
Making the blood sacrifice of his faith
The bare chested woman's husband his blade
Drew the blood of; the infidels are nigh

His every thought. "Pay back the sins in blood---
"All the dead, be the propitiation!
"The alter of soil; alter of stone
"Drip the blood of the dead infidel's sons."

The saints of his religion pick up the
Wounded upon the street, those he had killed.
They balm them with the oils, wrap sterile 
Gauze across burned visage. For their religion was love.

When I look upon the heart of a man
Who consciously decides to practice err
I see him strain so hard to do what's bad
Though I also see in that heart repair.

When I look upon the heart of a man
Who offends as part of his daily bread
I see a man whose best, I understand,
Is as bad as a man whose heart is dead.

Though in deed, the first man's crimes seem as worse
Than the man whose second deed is habit
What awful sin the first commit was choice
While the second man's sin is found avid.

Which is worse? I do say they are both same
And sad, but the first man, who's sorely grave
Repented and found his good heart again;
The second is bad, and will not be saved.

For the first man finds Jesus Christ and prays
While the second man rather stays his way.
One knows his sin, and the other cannot.
That is why one is saved while the other will rot.

;

What happens when kings
Won't let you cultivate your garden?

A friendship, when built upon honest first
Impressions, sparks a sincere intercourse;
Which, neither putting forth a facade's mirth
Can be built with true knowledge's comfort.

Narcissism as defined by psychology
Is wanting to be loved.
Healthy ways of being in psychology
Is loving yourself.

I understand what a narcissist is.
Trust me, I do.
But, something about the definition seems stupid.

To want people to love you,
That is narcissistic.
To have the innate desire to love yourself
This is not narcissistic.

Let me reiterate.
It is narcissistic to want love.
It is not narcissistic to love yourself.

In other words,
It's healthier to love yourself
Than it is to be loved by others.

Let me reiterate:
Everyone are narcissists
And the ones who want love the most, 
Those are the ones who everyone say are sick.

How I wish it was your shadow
Which touched mine.
How I wish in every evening 
Glow, that you found me
And were secretly my shadow.

If at one moment, 
You stood behind, waiting for me.
All I had to do was ask for you,
And you'd appear.

Yet, I have said,
"Do not be..."
Because I do not want a shadow.
For when I ask for you,
You do not appear.
No... you do not appear.

Hope is in every woman
With that familiar face.
I see you everywhere.
In the neighbor
At the mall
On the computer screen
The author of a poem
When I am driving through the local towns.

There you are,
Your face,
And I think, "It is her
"And all I have to do is reach out for her."
Look. It is not you.
Your familiar face,
If I could just have just one of you.
But, it is not the face I want.
No. It is you.
I find you on several dozen faces,
And each of them I want.
At the state park,
At my desk in school,
At the retirement home where I volunteered.
Though, it is not you.
It never is.

I get into a bitter fight today
And I lose hope that you exist.
Because men complicate simple truths with obfuscated 
Legalities, and political points
And hard to swallow talking points.
All I want is you.
And yet, when I call,
As I always try to call,
You are gone.
You do not come when I call for you.
When I'm at the family picnic
I walk down to the wine cellar
And I imagine you walking in,
And introducing our children;
For our love was a secret.
Whatever reason.
But, I walk upstairs,
And you do not come.
And I drink my cup
And I look into it...
I know I'm not supposed to...
And I sigh.