She sits and writes in her journal.

The journal she writes, in hopes of someone finding it when she's gone.

The journal she knows holds all the secrets, that she can't seem to let out.

She tells herself they're nothing, and simply unimportant.

She's only heard "No body truly listens, until you're gone"..

She often wonders why people waste their precious breath, on the ungrateful.

She'll tell herself she's doing the right thing, the only smart one in the world.

Writing her thoughts down, instead of speaking them aloud.

She wonders daily, if the words she writes will impact the world, maybe clue her parents in.

She asks herself if her journals will even be read, to fill the questions.

The questions she left unanswered, with her treasured silence.

But, until that day comes, she sits, and writes in her journal.