I'm told not to hide what I feel,
But the only place I truly reveal,
What I am feeling deep within myself,
Is in the notebook that sits upon my shelf.
It's always waiting there for me,
To open it up and trail my ink,
So that my thoughts I keep hidden away,
Finally have a place to stay.
Sometimes I surprise my conscious mind,
With things I write in such short time,
But other times I can't say what I mean,
And the subject stays a thought unseen.
Certain days the page will glow with glee,
Other days it's dark, depressing and mean,
Some days there is no emotion at all,
And the notebook lies still against the wall.
I despise the day that will come too soon,
When I arrive home and rush to my room,
Full of thoughts I must put in a cage,
Only to find the notebook has no blank page.
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
I'm told not to hide what I feel,
But the only place I truly reveal,
What I am feeling deep within myself,
Is in the notebook that sits upon my shelf.
It's always waiting there for me,
To open it up and trail my ink,
So that my thoughts I keep hidden away,
Finally have a place to stay.
Sometimes I surprise my conscious mind,
With things I write in such short time,
But other times I can't say what I mean,
And the subject stays a thought unseen.
Certain days the page will glow with glee,
Other days it's dark, depressing and mean,
Some days there is no emotion at all,
And the notebook lies still against the wall.
I despise the day that will come too soon,
When I arrive home and rush to my room,
Full of thoughts I must put in a cage,
Only to find the notebook has no blank page.
