I write about the truth, my reality, my life
I share the inconsistencies and dissapointment in sight
But underneath the letters, phrases, and pen strokes
Live the secrets to the pain and happiness I invoke
My heart is crying and my pen soothes its ambiguous beat
But my soul creates a portrait that my words must masterpiece
Underneath every line I pour out my disgust, love, and ambition
I'm not solicitous with you, but my own apparition
My pen cries the tears that create words of hope
One day, inside myself, I'll learn to cope
The reality is far from real, no problems exist with me
I write down the pleasures, vexations, and scrutiny
My journal, my paper, my pen, my words
My tears, my feelings, my nouns, my verbs
I can't scream, I can't argue, no point to curse
I'm wishing for that voyage, for that journey I thirst
"I must get away" reads my journal this day
But in my diary there's no quest, it reads "stay"
I'm a one man island, a shell with no turtle
Do you understand me or the diary within my journal?
