The journal

In the darkest hours,
When the light is dim,
Shadows crawl across the land,
And tears wash my cheeks.

I sit in an empty room,
Trapped in its corner,
Writing in my journal,
A dying candle guding my hand.

The ink runs with my tears,
Blood drips from my hands,
My words vanish upon the pages,
As my dreams fade away.

Then light spreads across the room,
And an angel steps through the door,
A smile creeps across my face,
As I look into your eyes.

My tale is nearly at an end,
But you wish to know its plot,
To find it you must unlock my journal,
For you carry its key.

You are the one who fills its pages,
You are the one who gives me dreams,
You are the light that guides my hand,
You carry the journal's key.

Where is this journal you ask?
It is hidden deep within me,
As this journal is no ordinary book ,
This journal is my heart.