I have not a clue as to what needs to be here the only journal I have kept would be poems that were written on days when i felt my head needed to be clear///  The eyes are the entrance to the soul,Black as night black as coal. Not hotnor warm but cold,to the reaper it was sold. You see to want the inner me, the hurt and pain you will see. The tears of pain and that of sorrow,sometimes hoping there is no tomorrow. To dwell upon the hurt and pain, in a shell I will remain....