Dear Diary, It’s been such a long time,

I wish I could sell my heart with a dime. 

Selling my heart would turn into a sorrowful deed, 

But my soul just pleads and pleads.

Why me? Why me? 

This love is full of powerful things, 

I hate it! My heart feels like it’s pulled by strings.

This emotional toll shows a lack of devotion

Everyday it feels like I'm going through the motions.

Of course I can’t mention this to anyone else,

Because a piece of paper just never tells. 

Why is love so full of tears?

I'm in search of a cashier! 

This heart is critically pulling me down,

But My flawless public facade is topped with a crown.