im temted by words in which i confide in
trusting to easily ... a flaw i cant seem to overcome
undecidedly i turn to leave this part of my life
i turn away hoping to walk into another night
my journal being my only friend.
not knowing faces in which most connect to names
this little box of secrets which i so conveintly throw all my rage
sometimes i wish i could run . in the opposite way if its a must
so i turn away , hopfully leaving this night ,
i wake up to find that the sun has not risen .
that the moon has not departed quite yet
i tend to like this veiw , the calmness of the air
the lack of distraught faces , confused