My pen moves with prudent pride
For the anguished heart I cannot hide.
With strident strokes, he gambles to uncover
The choking sounds I dare to softly utter.
Offering no modest mitigation,
My heart still reeks of desolation.

And my words drunkenly drip
In a continually poisonous strip.
Stifling and suffocating my tale,
They are now entirely meek and frail.
The once crimson red ink
Turns ever dusty, ever pink!

So my diary endlessly bleeds
Of verses I long dared free,
Standing with bold bravery-
No longer bound to slavery -
Each stanza feverishly rhymes,
And relays all my cautious cries.