Dear Diary

                                            DEAR DIARY


Dear Diary,

Who would have thought?

Who would have guess?

Tis you who sang our secrets.

Tis you who unregistered our puzzle.


Twenty clandestine years of covertness

Now shredded by greed and avarice.

Had your taste be known to me,

Never to your white pages would my ink have trotted.


Let not the potent spices of your mendacious bind

Serenate and epitomize your new found fame.

To this mockery of loyalty I cry not tears of betrayal!


A better pine tree I shall find and harvest.

Her soft circular truck shall bear womb to my new secrets.

In wilderness or borough she will wholly welcome

The calligraphy of all my secrets and fondness.


Who would have thought?

Yes, Tis you who sang our secrets.

Who would have guess?


Yes, Tis you who unregistered our puzzle.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Sometimes what is known becomes strangely foreign and distant. And the safest lock can scrumble into million pieces that mock the comfort of trust. But see it for what it is and not for what it is suppose to be. A broken heart must understand fraglity as a reality of life.