The Path

Here is a poem I wrote recently. I quite like it, you should tell me what you think, and what you think it means, I love to hear what it means to other people. It is entitled...

The Path

She walks alone
Down the long, winding path
And never stops to see
The love awaiting her glance

Beauty is all around her
Longing to be seen
Though she's determined to keep moving,
And pass this foreign sight

She knows not love
When it waits at her front door
Yet she longs for the day
That her partner finally comes.

He walks the path
Beside this lonely girl
And gives all his love
To an unreceptive wall

He holds her hand
When she is afraid
That they'll never again
See the light of day

A fork in the path
Which shall they take?
"We won't," says the girl,
"I'll take one. You, the other."

They follow their own paths
each step lonelier than the last
But they can never go back
They gave up what they once had.

I did it...

I cleaned my room. I know what you are thinking, and it isn't one of those "straightened" rooms. It is clean. I know, it's weird, but I finally did it. It is gonnna stay this way for a while. I put my clothes in a drawer for the first time in I don't know how long. At least since I have lived in the basement. I like it a lot more this way. It's a lot easier to walk around, and people will be able to come and just chill down here. I really like my room. It's big, and now you can use it all. It is still blowing my mind, though. It's clean...