I thought there'd be a journal,
One we'd keep to ourselves,
To express how we felt,
and not show anyone else.

At least then we could talk,
And issues would be kept private,
Or maybe for you to understand,
The things I hold most silent.

At least I could speak to the pages,
And hope one day they'd respond,
Or maybe my writing and tear streaked lines,
with penned anger dents, and ink smeared stains of all my faults,
...Would let you see I mean no harm.