I am a Journal

I have a plain, dark cover,
Filled with bound white lined paper.
I am open to some,
But never owned by anyone.

I hear peoples secrets,
& "oh so great" tales.
The little white lies,
& bitter stories in sales.

There are run-on sentences,
& drastic plots.
Quick turn of events,
Written in pen.

And though many pages have been dipped in,
There is still much to be written.
On the empty blank pages,
With soft, rounded ridges.

Sitting, with empty Faces.