With tragic lines and so many truths here;
Mark'ed pages doth protest far too much.
Simple leters made so complicated
As they march across a sole line swiftly.
It has been called by the name of journal
And it does hold one person's inner thoughts.
And when those thoughts begin so easily,
The writing may seem to go on and on.
Should you think you could find me within this;
You stand correctly so with this filled page.
My thoughts breathe so easily in this air,
they start and stop with such force as they turn
to become what is forever written.
With words and their flowing, I am... smitten.

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