Works in progress

Dear Diary

Its late night and I dream of freedom. Coming to my doorstep and invading my privacy like a whiff through my windows. I think him to cut the chains loosening this anchors of pain. As I stay still watching flowers on my window pane. I buried these secrets inside my heart, this broken heart which pumps blood out of the rivers they run within. They have dried up my tears, revealed my fears for all to see. My eyes have looked away and I have locked myself inside my bedroom, under my bed where its comfortable. No one can see me there, breathing and trapped. No one sees the scars from wounds of before. The door has kept that all out. So I slept under there but I woke up cold so I had to get to bed. Then I lay there, eyes wide open and he came in, uninvited, I did not know how much I needed a breath of fresh air till then. That is how I was able to tell you this.

Till next week

P.A.W.

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