Just a piece of paper?

Of all inventions preconceived
this had to be the one,

that captures most important things
dreamed of, said and done.

A deed to prove I own a house
where I used to live,

certificate of knowledge,
shows the world my minds no sieve.

Yellow postems where I write
notes made reminding me,

of what I care not to admit,
things I just don’t want to see.

Holy words were written down
preachers put their spin,

of how I’ll burn in devils hell
that I was born from sin.

Emotions come and haunt my soul
run rampant in my mind,

a purgation of these troubled thoughts
are written out in line.

Just a piece of paper,
or records of my fears.

I shut my eyes from seeing
the scars, the pain the tears.