White Diary

A source of light,
My heart skips a beat,
Its past the mid of night,
Or so I think.

Light a scented candle,
Your cover illuminating bright,
Ghostly white pages,
Somehow it chills me with fright.

I write a note to someone unknown,
with my own scarlet ink,
drip, drip, from near a hollow bone,
each little secret I tell is a tiny blot

Your pages soak in my words,
Drowning in each and every tear,
melt wax scorns your tethered spine
Still you alone will ever hear.

Pain.
Sorrow.
Despair.

If God exists what does he think,
Of my unlawly ways?
Does he frown or snarl,
Can he even see me cry?

Why pray, why cry no one can see,
No one can hear,
Just the burning winter rain
applauds my everlasting pain.

I listen to the howling wind as I write,
Thats the only music I hear,
Whispers a sad story,
The story of my seething life.