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Neel   Smart, Kind, Thoughtful, and Shy   Brother of Dhara and Yesh, Son of Jeegnesh and Shilpa  
Maybe I’ll pretend like my life’s been interesting; pretend like I had an interesting start and now am searching for an interesting end. Maybe I’ll pretend
Blinding lights like an operation room. I curl myself in the booster seat, Woven polyester straps pulled to the sides. Muffled roars of arriving flights make for difficult napping.
  Midwest farm raised Sweet honeysuckle by the fence-line
Anger At those who would steal my stuff. (Hi Jazzlyn) Anger At those who would try to manipulate. (Hi Bishop) Anger At all who tease. (Curse your memories) Joy
Me, myself, and I I often come off as shy
 You're complaining beause he hurt you and she's barely there. I'm sustaining. He's in prison and she wants me, just not with her there. Looking for a high in the form of a substance.
Damn, I can't stand you.All the crap that you caused, all the crap still to come,  I can't stand through.Thicker than bamboo.But now they starting to see through your lies, and you know I'm just preying that they catch you,
A Poet Mikaila Mack 3.3.12 I write because   I want to be a Poet.   I want to be the spot of fertile soil That you seek out
    To write, is to express one’s self through words rather than actions.To write, is to speak out loud without really speaking.To write, is to release… everything.  
  World! It is I, the by-standing life form you still haven’t noticed; a modestly self-absorbed mixture of carbon, air and water.   If I scream, will you notice me?
Words are made difficult to speak Without a voice by which to hear them Similarly, my keys confirm The thought expressed on the screen. By the stroke of a key. It is by the stroke of a key
It all started in the beginning. Creating this perfect world, that has no ending! A magnificent place with many dreams More than what anyone has seen
Before You There was another Seed that was sewn Oh, the poor child Whose sex was unknown A boy or a girl Time wouldn’t tell According to gospel I’m going to hell
I do not know exactly who I amI guess I am lost between E.E. Cummings and Steven KingI am existing solely between the words I do not understandUnderstanding the words I do not know
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