No Haikuesday poems from Palochi or Daddy Biscuits so I'll start. No stated theme, just pick up on the general feel of the thing.

My innermost thoughts
Posted here for all to see
Funny how this works

Pepys, Orton, Anne Frank
All wrote a similar thing.
Or did they really?

Did Sam Pepys know then
That generations later
He would still be read?

Anne Frank's diary
Was meant for her alone but
Millions have read it

Orton's rise, Ken's fall
Captured in his journal; hints
Of their tragic end

What then of my words?
Are they clues to my future?
Echoes of my past?

My words are read now
Will they be read once I'm gone?
Should I really care?

Is it some sort of
Immortality I seek
Or instant feedback?

Motivation is
Not that important I guess.
J'écris donc je suis.