The Unexplored Notebook
The marks of my pencil will always be unknown to you.
As you will never read the wavy letters that are drafted in my notebook.
The words go on and on about your beauty as a preview;
They are not for your eyes to catch, but only for mine to hook.
I’ll dance with my scribbles through the empty pages,
Through the lines and through my feelings of fury.
My soul shoots fire and my heart rages.
Not for you of course; but of self petty, purely.