Here’s to
the book
filled
with my emotion.
With words
that fit
and those
that cringe.

A homemade
journal
with chinese
script
given as a gift
and dubbed useless
by my
stable mind
until the day
I was so
sad that
I could not cry

I never
gave it a
second look
but on
that day
I wrote
a single
poem
and my life
was transformed

days and weeks
of suffering
when the
only consolation
was writing
in my
poetry book

soon the
days got
better
and I used
it less
and less
but
my poetry book
is always
there
to remind me
of the beauty
of happiness
and to
be here
with open arms
and open pages
when I
cannot see
that
happiness