Diary

With every ending starts a new begining. with every attempt to mend..can lead to unsteady grounds. A display of reality took away things even my eyes cant possibly see clearly..i've taken apart these days with hopes to find understanding with no path to follow grabbing hold of anything that would offer some peace..my eyes feel emtpy but behind them are stories that being told can only brake the silence that plays the roll of a forbidden diary.
A page from this diary can be read but only by whom has written and closed the book with its cryptic entries. It has its place to lay, but does not have a place to belong. Its key is made by words that define diary, always resting close to the heart and never straying too far from it. This diary has a face that was born with a name..old and full it keeps its pages with a terrible thirst and unstopable taste for warmth..Its color not yet admired and its edges never dull, a life lived inside those pages gave memory, in those words it gave definition, and inbetween those letters will be tears that has been spilled not only for me, but for them, ..for my own sake i pray between these very words to forgive.

by Lucy Medina

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