I do not keep a diary,
no journal for my thoughts,
instead I speak to you,
through lyric,
line upon line,
poetry,
and though the quality is questionable,
it's one of two outlets,
the only two I've got.

One is my poems,
the other is a girl,
our relationship is absurd,
I do not lie to you,
my inferiority obvious.
You sit and comply,
listening to my most sickening cries,
the feral thing inside me,
the natural man,
an enemy to God.

You listen and you do not strike me down,
you allow this ******* to stand,
taking my hand in yours,
and for that you have my love.