She found the word that sounds just right,
Hypergraphia, an overwhelming urge to write.
A thing in common of Van Gogh and Carroll,
two who are her inspiration and idol.
This similarity, though not as severe,
for she's not alone as it was to appear.

You don't know me,
though you think you do.
You're trying to be free,
if only you knew.

Words preserved,
respect deserved.
Silence present,
though no discontent.

The mystery of a diary,
reveals the hidden vocabulary
from an unknown lover gone shy
with the innermost wants to die.

Hide away your deepest desires,
protect them with burning fires.
Every day continue to grow
and stronger you will show.

We all have that potential
to achieve that deep down dream,
no matter how insignificant or essential,
To stand up strong and begin to gleam.

Let's forget the past of winter's words
and find the radiant truth of summer's song.
To discover hidden realms of our desire
as we get caught up in the swaying throng.

The chapters continue to write themselves,
never-ceasing in their progression.
Stars faded into broken shards
as age summoned its restriction.

How fast things go, always flying by
shining sunsets gone in blinks of an eye
Autumn has finally come to bear,
falling lives are dancing in midair.

Alone she treads
now forgotten,
mist in moonlight,
a mirror broken.

Run far and fast my child,
depart from this affair.
Guard your hapless heart,
save your soul to someday share.

Dreamwalker--
his eyes meet with hers,
only to slowly fade away.
For she wakes to light of day.