As I left my only known world behind,
When the images had became blurry,
The beaten, black book stopped me from going blind,
And help me relieve myself from worry.

The world spinning to fast to comprehend,
Without someone to help me understand,
With too many scars that time could not mend,
It became my one friend always in hand,

It became my heart, it became my eyes,
Drawing out the pictures I could not see,
Showing the ominous things in disguise,
Using art to define what became me,

It lured the eyes of the many around,
As if it were the light in a dark cave,
I slowly but surely became renowned ,
And my place in the world I engraved,

Each person I met, each person I saw,
I bound them into the duck tape binding,
For each image they gave me I would draw,
Like an author writes words into writing.

It holds my memories, it holds my thoughts,
It is my diary screaming out loud,
A collection of people I long sought,
A reminder of the friends I have found.

They all left their mark in the back pages,
As a reminder for when I was sad,
As I tearfully went on to life’s stages,
To remind me of what I once had,