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.