Dear Diary,
I think
As I scrawl down my pathetic feelings
In blood red ink.
Biting my tongue to keep from screaming.
Dear Diary,
I whisper
As I hide from every prying eye that aims to pull me
Deeper and deeper,
Opening my eyes and trying to see.
Dear Diary,
I mumble
As I draw a mirror and a golden frame
That makes me invisible.
Except for when I need to take the blame.
Dear Diary,
I scream
As blood trickles from my neck flowing quickly —
It's got to be a dream—
But I never get what I wish for so fervently.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem