You brought me a bag of journals
And told me that I had enough books
Written by other people, it was time
To start writing my own.

So I tucked that sentence into my heart
For safekeeping because it was the
Prettiest thing I had ever heard and
It sounded like poetry to me.

I choose,
I choose to write on my wrists the words I cannot say
Spiraling around my arms the secrets I cannot tell
Finding their way to my neck the sentences  I don't understand
Kissing my ears, my lips, my whole body
A scroll full of ink, red, black and blue
A rainbow of selective colours, meaning not a rainbow at all.
In the morning these words disappear
Evaporate into the tingling morning air to join my dreams in the boxes I have kept them in order to gather dust and remain unopened, untouched and unlived.

My words formed an ocean, your response formed a sea and together we were deeper than deep can be.

Mind control, is it not?
Engulfing the minds of the population
Desperate for admiration
Intriguing the population
As the damage is forgot