Well. On to the good stuff.

ÒUndilutedÓ

Sometimes I wonder if any part of
Me
Is pure
Untouched
Untainted by
The outside world.
When I look for that
Self
Under the act
I canÕt find anything
Worthwhile.
Is there
Any of me
That is
Undiluted?


ÒBlack and WhiteÓ

There is no true
Black or
White.
Everything is just
Shades of
Grey.



ÒCompositionÓ

I sit, my pen poised at the paper/
My fingers hovering over the keys/
The words on the tip of my tongue
Not knowing how to begin



ÒUncertaintyÓ

I question myself
Looking for ananswer
When there are none.

ÒJealousyÓ

She sees them flaunt
The one thing
She can
Never
Have
And weeps for herself.

ÒSticks and StonesÓ

ÒSticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt meÓ
The children on the playground taunt
But they are young
And do not realize that
Words
Can
Hurt.
And they do.

Well. That's pretty much it for now. Maybe I'll find more if I dig through my notebooks....