The pages of truth
has landed back to my hold.
A black notebook with white specks sat on the corner of my desk. I looked through the written words and found myself beginning to feel stiff. It was my diary whom I have completely forgotten. I detested that notebook, because the author
The pages of forgotten memories
has been remembered.
The pain who I tried so hard to forget came striking back. Sitting still, I don't know how I should react. I looked up at the ceiling as my arms fall, and the notebook slides out of my grasp. "Should I burn this diary?"
The pages of my past
has become my future.
Thinking that my future has changed, its really no better than before. All the events, has been playing with me all this time. My life has turned into a tape of recordings. It keeps on rewinding to the moments where I have fallen. Everything has been happening over and over again. This tape who has been treating me like a joke, has become my own diary. The pages who created the tape, and the author who scarred the pages with words.
The pages has found me
I always believed I controlled my future. I now realize that the past brushes the possible things that could happen. Its like a strip of hair that's brittle and dry, which stands out from the rest. All beauty is ignored and that one strip of hair became the center of attention.
This black and white notebook is my brittle crown. The white spots that are splattered on it are tiny. At least there is brightness on this black covered notebook. I know that theres hope in her.
April 11,2010 - 1:27AM