How much can you write down
in your journal
to let out
what you can’t speak,
to let out
fellings of anguish and despair
and helplessness?

After you write some six pages or so
you start to lose the point
of writing such gibberish
in the hope of healing yourself
for you know
nobody’s going to read that chaff
and things and circumstances
will remain the same
to haunt you into writing more,
filling up more pages of your journal,
hopelessly.

It all looks pointless
after a while,
but maybe
you should still keep writing,
in search of
solace.