
Some lines scribbled;
On the not so white
Paper…
In graphite, molded within
A hollow cast of red and black
Pencil…
Dissatisfaction creeps;
The words don’t mean
Much…
A bright “maped” eraser;
Kept beside the paper
Erases…
All vacuous words;
Not meant to be
Written…
From now on;
I will write my life with
Graphite…
And will also keep;
An eraser
Beside…
To efface those names;
Not meant to be
There…
How can I?
Life leaves deeper wounds than
Graphite…
And the marks can’t be wiped;
Even with the eraser of
Tears…
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