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I saw too much, of what was shown
the scenes that left them all alone
left in their rooms; the hours pass
Losing their way, and changing path.

So, "What am I thinking" the journal expectantly asks as I stare back at it. Really, I'm not sure myself. Perhaps, I feel regret for treating the real life people above those I meet online. Or maybe that's nature.

In any case, the deep feeling is still there, and things will have to be shared, to earn the key, for it to pass.

Earlier this week, I went to see some poets talk about their work in an auditorium.
None of them particularly interested me, apart from a few words that two of them said.

They made me realise that based on just a single word, the whole outcome of something is changed drastically. There are words for everything - to make us sad, happy, anxious; to make us understand. The poets themselves aren't using any more letters than anyone else. Spell out your thoughts.