Torn pages from my book,
Hidden feelings that often look,
Thinking when would be the right time,
Is there ever going to be a person that understands the mind?
I don't have an answer to their questions,
So I just stare blankly at the torn pieces from my journal.
There's no reason to let the feelings out,
They will all just laugh from the crowd.
And I gently toss my painful words into the bin,
I can feel my inner demons celebrating their win.