Diaries of Concerns

Diaries of Concerns


I keep a diary,
written in disappearing ink
just in case God reads
between the vanishing lines.

My prayers are paper planes
they fly,
crash softly,
then burn without smoke.

I gave life my account number
it debited peace,
credited chaos,
and left my balance in doubt.

I water my wounds with laughter
they bloom into sarcasm.
It’s cheaper than therapy,
and twice as cruel.

Hope knocks like a scam call
frequent,
familiar,
but never worth picking up.

My shadow keeps secrets
even daylight won’t touch.
I walk tall,
but bend in places mirrors can’t see.

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