My Clown, I Love You

I do not keep a diary, so I will fashion by ode,
The events and the feelings of my difficult load.
This rhyming journal will remind me in years,
Of what I was feeling when I was so prone to tears.

This is a notebook of loss, and of finding my way,
Back to a life, in a year and a day.
I will let it all out on day three sixty-six,
For all eyes to see, what I felt, found and missed.

My journey to freedom, from hurting to bliss,
Is far from complete, I'm not healed with a kiss.
My torture and torment, and feelings of guilt,
Will abate as time passes and new foundations are built.

So read if you wish, I have no shame or remorse,
Of you seeing my soul, my heart and trod course.
But please don't pass judgement on what you will read,
Just close the book gently when you've finished with me.