Poetry: The Truth Of My Heart And My Mind

The Diary

Staring at the blank pages,

planning to write my memories,

they tend to be in stages,

this little book, holds my deepest thoughts,

most of them not the cheapest,

no, no they're supposed to be priceless,

most of them are the nicest,

it holds my deepest wishes,

people get suspicious,

never telling my heartless desires,

some pages watched the fires,

I hide my hopes and all my talents,

in my heart I hold a balance,

I often I'am haunted by temptations,

I plan my motivations,

I grow sronger by my determinations,

in here I keep

my longest objectification,

here I write the words I don't say, the book knows my words,

at people no throwing words that might lead me in a stray,

here are my feelings I won't feel,

all thing I want to do,

the most important things not to lose,

on my skin is what I prove, a bruise,

my heart that longs,

disguising my wrongs,

the feeling that yearns,

the tear that burns,

into it before I close my most secret book of magic,

before happens something tragic.