Micah Park Biffle

A Murdered Love  I started my morning as I always have. I woke up, smashed the dismiss button on my alarm and rose from my bed. I tossed my blankets from my body and turned myself so me feet could fall freely to the ground.  I gave out a yawn of exhaustion, as I rubbed my eyes to clear my sense of early morning confusion and slight resentment of waking before the sun. I then stood off my bed and turned around to tidy its rambled mess. Making sure my bed is in order so I am not in disgust of a disheveled bed after the end of my work.  Having my bed in order gives me pride in my rest, it shows I care enough about where I lay my head. After making my bed I walked over to where my towels hang and wrapped one around my waist. I then opened my door with half opened eyes and silent thoughts.  I walked over to the bathroom, closed the door, hung my towel and started the shower. After about fifteen seconds, I jumped in the shower. While in the shower I looked thro...

Where the Mind Quits  This is where the mind quits and the heart ticks. Where everything is on the line and life becomes a burden with just one misstep. Either follow the mind and walk into the abyss, close your eyes and rest. Or this, this is where you take in a deep breath, fill your chest and do your best. Where the rest will look to you as if you are full of it. As if your gestures of dedication are worthless. A futile attempt to act as if you are something else. But you take every moment as if it is your last. You spring forth from the exhaustion that requests your tired eyes to surrender. To create a blur of what could be better, what could become your bender of after. You ignite a fire and follow the ember of your boiler. Where you toss the old, the lies, the temptations, and live as if you are going to die. You no longer live in between the lines, but have chosen where you shall stand. You are a breather of the brighter. A bringer of the hour, a conqueror, but...

A New Kid A New Challenge  This is the sixth house in past two years. Things are always changing and my roots are never settled. I am young, so much of my world is based around my friends. It's difficult at this point to even want to make friends.  I remain in this constant status of hovering, of always keeping my roots just above ground. I allow them to hold to the top of the soil. Just enough to keep me sustained during the cold nights alone. This allows me to never completely settle upon any one place, allowing me to detach in a moments notice. I make friends, but I don't get too close. It's hard sometimes not too, you find some great friends and you want to become best friends, but you know you could be moving at any time. Some places, unfortunately never allow me to make friends. I show up as the new kid and am instantly placed as an outcast. Some schools are harsher than others, I realize this now. But it is challenging to always be the new kid, to always ...

These Marshes Bring no Peace  I thought I was safe here, far from everyone and everything I know. I am alone, I cast myself from the horrid reaches of memories. Crowded between marshes and rivers, a place only I know of. Yet, here I am, shrouded in stress, in misery.  But I have all things I need. I have my home, food, water, and shelter. I have peace, I have the silence of the night so that I may think. Yet, I am still haunted, haunted by visions of what was. Mistakes streak my dreams like a filth covered window of neglect.  I hear voices of former loves whisper in the soft silence of nature. The frogs belch of memories, calling out names, out agony. The crickets, rubbing their legs together spread shadows of doubt upon myself during the humid heat of the night.  I have no mirrors in my home. Why? For I feel a reflection of myself will only drag me back to what I miss. I dare not even look to the waters of the marsh except in the night. For there is not ...

A False Allegation "Take her to Mount Halden and lock her up, she is not to see the light of day ever again!" Rork slams the gate to the prisoner's carriage and steps away. He tosses the key to the supporting guard command. "Now off you go! Get her out of my sight." Rork turns away and spits out a stem from something he was chewing on. His over bearing stature brings fear into the surrounding guards. They respond in quick haste to his words. The commander of the guards places the key in his satchel and says, "Alright men, you heard him, lets get a move on. It is going to be three days till we reach the top. Lets waste no time." The commander then reaches back into his satchel and removes a flower. A dark red flower with specks of black on the petals. He takes the flower and begins to chew on it for a moment before spitting out the stem. "Don't forget your Wizards Bloom, it'll help you stay awake." The commander s...

The Perfect Beauty   She is perfect, built from the gods and birthed from the pearl of Poseidon. She is everything any man any god would want, would crave. Upon her birth she already stands among the gods as something extraordinary.  Her locks of red hair sway like flowers to ever soothing currents of the sea. Her skin, like the white pearl of the womb she broke from. Her face, perfectly spaced from great admiration of her father, no mistake was given.  She walks the earth in perfection. Each step she takes, beautiful flowers bloom, birds sing, and the world stares in awe. She resembles what all Beings of any life wish to be. Never silent, she always finds reason to speak.  If she be not speaking, you can find her singing. She walks the many cities of the world with absolute confidence. But as time progresses she still holds no hand for marriage. Yet, she continues to stride herself with grace and perfection.  Every city displays a statue of he...

 The Blue Wolves Are Coming  Tonight I write from my friends chambers in haste. The dogs are barking and the whistles are blowing. The fog has settled densely upon the streets, allowing me temporary escape. It will only be a few moments before I am ravaged by the jaws of canines or thrown to the ground and shackled for the remainder of my life.  I am part of a secret society, some call us "resistors," we merely call our self free people. We are freethinkers, we have been watching the world degrade into a child's toy. Adults no longer observe their emotions and take thought. Rather, they act now with a stasis of belligerent obsession of identity.  Calloused to logic they bore tunnels of fantasy building lies that suit their tongues. Blaming their surroundings for their harsh reality. They bring no responsibility to their character, but force the world to shift as they do.  Many of us now clothed in the color of red, to signify they are workers of pri...