A pencil.
Write and erase.
Over and over again.
Writing and writing.
Spot a mistake.
Sacrifice the eraser.
I wish.
If only my life were like a pencil.
Clean and spotless.
My life would be perfect.
I can fix my mistake.
Look back and improvise.
There would be no scar.
No regrets weighing me down.
Feeling light and bounce away.
Change my past.
Repeat what happened.
Successfully change my future.
Sadly.
That is not possible.
Life cannot be written and erased away.
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Book
PoetryA collection of poetry I, @canpotcat, have written over the past 3 years. Basically somewhat like my diary because every poem I wrote was at the moment about how I was feeling and what happened. And just something to know, a couple of the poetry wri...
