It sat there.
It stared at me.
It stared at me.
It stared at my soul.
It ate my words.
Him and his friend together they taunted me. They showed me things I could never see on my own. My many demons excuse me, personalities; shouted what they thought and what they wanted. He didn't listen to them, he listened to me. I would go on for hours and he took down everything I had to say.

He took down every little thought."

"It just sat there smiling at me. It knew I wanted to take it up, that little black book. It mocked me with the ink on its pages and the words on its covers. So, I took it up. What was I going to do? I had no idea. I closed my eyes and for the first time in my life, I tried to feel. And I did. I felt! I didn't feel an emotion or a desire, I felt words. The pen took my brain and wrote things I had no control over." "I couldn't believe what I wrote. I didn't remember being a poet or a lyricist. They just came to me like the flood waters of a spring. The light of poetry and literary structure beamed within me. Now, I never chose to write in that little black book, and I didn't need to. It already chose me. My black book became full by the end of two weeks. Once again, my thoughts took over my heart. I was back at square one.

I tried to find another but there was none like it. They weren't even close! None taunted me the way it did. It was but an object that affected me like a person. That pen and the pages of the little black book opened my eyes and turned on the lights in my world of darkness. I wasn't searching for it yet it found me. That little black demon. I knew not where it came from or where it went. It came as the wind. Every day I re-read its pages and treasured it as if the pages were life. To me, they might have well been. I read it from cover to cover every day and each time I would find something completely new. It kept the thoughts away from me. It kept me sane. But one day, I placed my hand in the home of my savior and it was gone. That day, I searched and I cried but it was nowhere to be found. The book had left the way it came, like the wind. There was no other like it. They were indeed books but they didn't taunt me the way that black book did."

"Stainless steel" and cold metal ring in my head. I know I'm not this animal I have become. I found refuge in another thing, the book was gone and something else kept me sane now. I have nothing left. They were controlling me and I couldn't help myself. I was alone and crazy. Tears won't save me nor will they save you. I wrote my name in blood as I left the world for good this time.