Paralyze me inside these cold walls.
I smile and pull out this journal..
Inside these pages, I am free.
My heart bleeds love.
The love of a woman and her kiss on my lips..
Confessions of love scribbled within..
The cold, lonely desert that is my depression..
Words blurred and erased by the tears that have fallen.
The ink faded and worn..
Memoirs from the battlefield.
The journal smells of dirt and powder..
Blood on the corners and oil on the paper.
The heartache from a hate spoiled, love..
You never loved me yet, I will always love you.
Heavy hands rip this book apart..
My philosophies, the way of the world..
Life is the metaphor, living should be taken literally...
Every entry, Every letter...
This journal and my pen..
Self-medication.
ej
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