Journal Entries and Melodramatic Comparisons

People think they know me,
Know my every action and response to every word.
Realize my darkness and try to, pretend to, understand it.
Believe me to be an open book for the world to read.
The reality of these accusations is that the truth lies in what I am.
Broken glass is a good description.
When the bottle breaks none of the pieces are ever the same
They resemble circles and stars but never truly are
Their edges are both jagged and smooth
As I am both caring and fierce in my feelings and heartache
The glass whispers secrets to the world and the other pieces
Though its jagged edge keeps the world from knowing the substance that those whispered secrets hold
When the only way to express yourself, your whole self, is through metaphors and hope
That someone will see and understand
Then maybe you are not really an open book at all but one who chooses to let those around it see the prologue and maybe the first chapter
All while the rest stays firmly held closed, locked away in the safe confines of my heart.