Diary

Pages covered with words,
where my thoughts went alive,
my words piled as diary enteries,
also play their roles in my life.

It contains articles of my personal experiences,
has interesting forums where I discuss about,
It also is filled of a little chatroom,
where I can open my heart and shout.

I use a special ink to write my flashbacks,
when I open my diary the next day,
from the page on which I wrote before,
my special ink vanishes away.

My diary and ink were a gift to me,
which follows me like a shadow to every room,
their existence will never come to an end,
until in front of me stood my doom.

The diary I pen on is my mind,
The ink I use are my words and thoughts,
Where people have restless nights in this fast paced time,
I fill my nights with my diary slots.