Personal Journal

If I wrote it down,
What would I say?
How would I try to say it?
There’s nothing I want more,
Than for you to know.
Sweet girl;
Dear muse.
Hear me when I say that I could be
There for you and hold my heart,
Within my so fragile of hands.
Not one disrupting burst—
Would dare create havoc in such a place.
Where I set the rules;
And make my destiny what I will.
For nothing has dared to disturb this place—
Even though holy I am not,
I do what I will to show good,
But an evil presence
And a darkened day shall put down on me.
A weight of unimaginable strength,
Trying to break a will that knows no bound,
Dear girl,
Puèlla Amàre.