Micah Park Biffle

An Orphan Girl Who Found Her Soul  Sarah is but a newly adopted orphan.  Her parents had died in a car accident  when she was eight. She is sweet, beautiful, strong, but shy. Her hair golden, her eyes silky brown. Three years she was alone bouncing from one orphanage to the next. Being chosen from one foster family to the next, only to be let go because she did not listen well. Many families who took her in, found her lack of listening to be bothersome. Many of the foster parents found her lack of listening to be a possible mental deficiency, immediately wishing return. As if she is a defective product and needs to be tossed out. Strangely, she never cries, she has not cried since her parents died.  She is the kind of girl who would rather sit alone and stare out a window and dream of far of places. Rain is her favorite, there is something about the rhythm and sound of rain that catches her. Her new foster parents see how she enjoys staring into the world...

Sometimes dreams are in the dimmest places  -Dreams Are Nothing-  He stares far into nothing,  Looking for something,  Always searching for that which is missing, But never finding.  No matter how far searches,  How close he gets,  He finds nothing, His senses are choking.   He tastes nothing,  Feels nothing,  He smells nothing, not even the budding of flowers,  But he keeps chasing. Chasing, Something that cannot be explained,  Something that gnaws upon his barren existence,  Something that itches like the scab of flesh An aching churns his spirit, he swings from a thread of domestic clashing. He is bursting with imagination, But Hurting in creation,  A dreamers dream, but horrors embracing,  He searches the deepest ends of his heart,  Still he becomes lost,  Still he finds the misery of the empty, finding his tongue upon cursing.  S...

Nights were far from elated. Arguments were our forte, it was our nightly thing. Like reruns of your least favorite show, playing your least favorite episode over and over. Yea, that was us, every night for three months straight. Either I did something wrong or I didn't do enough. I can still feel the animosity clouding the house. Our arguments haunted the very walls of our home and engraved themselves our foundation. The heat from the arguments you could feel rise from floor just before the first words were shouted. Our home was a nightly battleground and I always left with my head cut from my shoulders.  See, I had been laid off from work for six months. Those six months I stayed home and cared for our child. At first it was great; my wife could work and she did not have to worry about me working late and having to watch our daughter for the rest of the night. Things seemed to fit well together then. But, after about the third month, I started to struggle and she could see t...