The fire cackled behind her,
Sending sparks into the night,
The flames reflecting upon the water,
Like stars fallen from the sky.

She gazed out at the ocean,
Mesmerized by the dancing lights,
Mixed with wisps of darkness,
Drawing her to her demise.

Slowly she moved forward,  
Sinking into the ocean's silky depths,
Her battered body embracing the coldness,
Welcoming what lay ahead.

Further and further she drifted,
Feeling a strange sense of calm,
And she floated over the waters,
Ignoring her slight, last minute qualms.

The fire roared behind her,
But she couldn't hear the noise,
That shattered the silent darkness,
All she heard was a soft voice.

It pulled her in deeper,
Swallowing her in waves of inky black,
Until she was nothing more,
Than a carcass in the ocean's depths.                        

Washed ashore a year later,
Her absence never felt,
Her body emerged out of oblivion,
Her soul finally free, floating out of reach of humanity,
And what she called hell.

Everyone has their secrets.
Some keep them well.
Some are waiting for someone
Who they can trust enough to tell.

My secrets find their way,
Into my little black book.
I keep it well hidden.
I know some people who would love to sneak a look.

These secrets find their voice,
In ink that smears a page,
A page that was pure and untainted,
And now is filled with rage.

I cannot hide it within me,
For fear that their darkness will swallow me whole,
But I cannot find the words to reveal them,
To the ones I love the most.

They follow me to bed,
Haunting me everywhere I turn,
The voices so loud,
I'm surprised no one else heard.

And so I keep them locked,
Between the covers of my little black book,
Where numerous stories go untold,
Unless someone takes a look.

My hands are shaking now,
And my heart is thundering in my chest,
For I know the power these pages have over me,
And I am terrified of what might happen next.

What happens if this gets out,
If my vulnerability is put on display to the world,
Even worse,What will happen if these pages are destroyed,
And the stories never unfurl.

This little black book is my savior.
It is the worst parts of me.
It is an angel of darkness.
And with or without it I can never be free.

You may think I'm being dramatic,
That no words could possibly be so bad,
Well the things in this little black book,
Might have driven me mad.

There are reprieves from the madness,
Little pinpricks of light.
They fan the fading embers inside me,
And spark me back to life.

What will happen when these lifelines run out?
What will happen when I'm in a corner with nowhere to go?
What will happen when all that is left,
Is the words I am now so afraid to show?

I can't face the possibilities,
Can't face the unknown,
So I navigate these troubled waters,
With this black book that haunts my dreams,
But shows me the way back home.