The Diary Of Death (Death Diary) Poem by Michael Bole

My mystery dwells,
In the pages of my book.
The ink that becomes the soul.
Extensive only begins to describe
The dark agonizing pain that I endure
But it is hidden,
In my Diary of Death

Hallucinations,
Of the sleepless nights,
Tell the story,
Of my overpowering insomnia
I walk the endless path,
To happiness
But it is hidden,
In my Diary of Death

I hear the guns and the screams
Of The runaways on the street
The endless streets
Bang!
Another soul… Dead
But it is hidden,
In my Diary of Death

The chattering murmurs on the streets
As I listen
I endure the pain
Watching the soul that spread their joy amongst others
Sorrow fills my heart
But it is hidden,
In my Diary of Death

My face is a book
You can read it and understand
And feel my pain in empathy
The darkness of my heart
Shows my soul
But it is hidden,
In my Diary of Death