The Eyes Of A Spectator

Legs are of great importance when looking at the characteristics of a girls body. A couple come into mind, but it's the finer details that never escape my mind. The beautiful human body, in it's sculpted body form, is laying there on the bed, and it's there to be taken, and to be wanted. So I take her, or even it, because in my mind, it can be who or what I want it to be. Oh those people will exist in my dreams forever until the day I die, but never having them, or being able to, will just wither my mind away. I often find myself, asking myself, why do I have to be a good person? I don't really know what dignifies a good person, but I think I am one. I also see that it can lead to my misery. I wish I had the ability to at least dive in a little on the bad side, but I can't. I reject and refuse even the idea of being part of statistics that involve people who do things for themselves. For as long as I can remember, I've always been there for people, in general, especially my friends, in anyway possible. I'm willing to go to very far lengths just for the happiness of others and I've always been that way, but a part of me doesn't ant it, however, my morals and my personal rules I've set out, just don't let me.