Where is it?
Where is it?
I search frantically,
For the little notebook,
With all my feelings and emotions,
Concealed between the covers.
The door opens,
I don't notice,
My mother stands,
Notebook in hand,
Starring down at me.
Finally I pause,
Eyes lifting to hers,
Then my black book,
In her arms.
"What is this?" she asks,
Eeys begging for answers.
"Nothing,
It's nothing" I say frantically,
Grabbing for it.
"No...this is something" She says, voice trembling,
"I swear its alright mom" I try to persuade her.
"No, hun, No itsnot alright"
"Is this how you feel?" she whispers.
Yes I simply reply.
She kneels down,
Embracing me in a hug,
Tears streaming,
And I know,
Its not ok,
Its not ok,
All because of my little black book