Dear Diary


The once cheerful songs we used to party to,

now make me cry.

The "happy" memories,

now nightmares that remind me of you.

They remind me I could have done something,

that I could have helped,

that I failed you,

that I lost you forever.

I knew something was wrong,

but I was too selfish to do anything.

I was too busy getting high,

to notice what I was doing, in a different form,

would ultimately be the death of you.

Mine was on life,

but yours was on a drug to clear your mind

and ease your pain.

Now there is nothing to make me high,

for there is no joy,

just sorrow.

I wish I would have called instead of ignoring responsibilities.

Now I am forced to paint on a fake smile.

Only a few people see the gold dripping.