Micah Park Biffle

She Wears A Heavy Mask She wears a mask upon her face, she blends to the crowd. Fading like white paint upon a white wall. Alone, inside her head she speaks of wondrous things. Of places that do not exist but in her heart. But dare she speak of such things or shall she be casted from the crowd. Ridiculed for her ridiculous words. She is no fool to the agony of rejection, she knows it well. And in this tormented chest of hers, she finds escape in the lining of her imagination. Crossing lines of great architecture of the mind. Creating whimsical stories that glare with such might.  Alone, in her mind she is the queen, the king, the soldier, the creator. She bears all powers to make what she will. And in this mind of hers, she wears no mask. She is the red rose among a rotten field.  She is the brightest star among the darkest nights. Her eyes twinkle with excitement as she laces her fingers through the lush fields of her heart. Leaving no inch of it unknow...

Want more?! A Man's Traveled Heart A Cheater To The Cheated   This was not supposed be, you were not meant to cry. My greed to boast my status led me to tear you from your soul.  We were not supposed to fall to the spoils of temptations and sewn lips. Never should I have carved your heart from your breasts, as if meat for my hunger. Never should I have allowed such tears to flow from you. Never should I have wiped you off my heart like soiled tissue upon the sole of my shoe.  I knew the damage I would cause, but like a lion to its prey, I cared not for the repercussions of the other.  I felt no shame in the moment, for I had drowned my heart, my soul, in the spirits of man. Keeping all sense of purpose from of us, from ever seeing life. Maybe, we were never designed for the moon, nor the rising sun. You deserved a horizon of beauty, but I gave you a view of death, of the rancid damned.  A view with mountains built of shame, of faithless prid...

Don't forget to take your soul on a ride A Man's Traveled Heart A Ballerina's Dream Come True  She was told to stop, she was told she would amount to nothing. That she is but a flimsy child withering to her imagination. A foolish heart with only a hand for disappointment.  And these words, these thoughts played like a song on repeat. Only thirteen and the world seemed to rage against her. It felt as if the world had built a wall she was never destined to climb. Even her own friends seemed to join in in the thoughts of her faults. Of creating a gossip of distortion of who this girl was.  Thorns is what this world is she thought, thorns is all it has. The budding of roses is never to be. They are cut the moment they try to spring to the sun. Only to be brought to the ground and trampled upon like dirt. Crushed with every passing moment, soon, to no longer be a rose. But a crumbled dream among the rest of the world.  She found no love in her dream, in...