Insanity is what you might call it
Yet freedom is all I ever wanted
Since I cannot talk to you about it
You cannot say you were never needed.
“My special dear diary,
Only you can make me understand
My inner thoughts and deeper feelings
That has haunted me over the weeks.
And although I said to myself fine
Nothing has changed; all has remained,
I was running away from the truth,
Carrying the heavy burden on my shoulders.
But I have to make the decision
As to what my heart wishes to happen
For I cannot remain in a trapped field,
This ground forcing me to believe falsely.
And so I turn to you Dear diary,
Only you can make my visions clear.
As the ink dries itself on your skin,
An answer reveals the secret in my thoughts.”
A smile of mine draws joy to your face
Believing you helped my depression.
But I will never confess the letter to myself
For you shall never understand my insanity.