I am like an eraser,
When first bought,
I am clean and sharp around the edges.
But over time,
I am stained,
I get stabbed,
And I am broken in half.
The friction of rubbing off mistakes,
Started to hurt and made me smaller and smaller,
Until I am nothing but residue.
And once I am deemed useless,
I am thrown out and forgotten,
While another takes my place,
And meets the same fate.
YOU ARE READING
Epigrams
PoetryIt appears you've found my book and before you decide to read it's contents, know that... These poems are everything that is me. (Also the cover was made by my buddy FierroThorne!)
