Take Me Home (Original Poems)

Eraser - Poem 78

I let my pencil touch the paper,

A light brush with my led and a line appears in its place.

I let the words finally escaped my mouth,

A tear leaves a trace of were it's been on my flushed cheeks.

Pick up an eraser again,

For it never leaves my side.

Once you make that action, there is no eraser,

Unfortunately, you will have to live with this mistake.

I make too many mistakes to even think about not using my eraser,

All my flaws are written all over my face.

Just like they always have been.

I wish I had an eraser.