Alright, this one is not exactly a poem, but I had written it on the very first page of my diary, which fortunately I kept blank. It was long back and I really don't know if it conveyed my message properly. So here I am posting one of my stupid poems here. I know you will say if it is stupid then why do I want to post it? The answer is this book is not only a collection of poem, but a collection of memory linked with the poem. I hope you like it, nonetheless. :) Since these words are linked with my diary, I have named it as 'Diary'.

***Diary***

Some pages of my life

Which cannot be written

Some mistakes of my life

Which cannot be forgiven

Some wishes with the New Year

Some curses wrapped in last year

What I left, what I carried,

What I lost, where I got profit

Giving a try to find these answers,

Burning with the fire of old flame

I hope and beg no one tries

To open this bloody frame