The Journal Poem by Jef L33

Bold cursive silver letters
Etched onto a plain black cover
Labeling what I am
But not who I am

I sometimes just sit down
And clumsily flip through the pages
Smiling to myself on one page
And breaking my heart on the next

My friends are old photographs
Safely tucked between the pages
Guarding my scribbled down memories
From times forgetful spell

The love of my life is a bad poem
Quickly scratched out across the page
So many little messy wishes
That was never meant to be

As my eyes graze across my stained memories
I wish I could just scratch out
All of my regretful mistakes
But even then, the words would still remain

I am just a sad little character
Caught up in my own little plot
Living each page to the next
Until “The End”