Letters To The Soul Poem by liana johns

Frantic flowing of pen and ink
Flying across a sheet of innocent white
Though unsure of what I really think
I mask it well in what I angrily write
This passage to the friend I wish I could hate
As she thinks of me as I do of her
It pains me to write that she is far too late
To reverse the effects of what she made me endure
Yet still she is whom I could never deny
For she is my conscience within my soul
And together we could never believe this lie
For the words that I write form a single black hole
And despite that she has cause me such overwhelming grief
I must face facts that I am writing to me