Imagine us, unable to scribble out our mistakes quietly living on old crinkled pages, with the choice to erase or forcibly remember all that we previously could coat in ink and forget. The blunt tips of charcoal and pencil lead smudged beneath our oily fingers would have to do, no mediums of the black and blue variety at our fingertips anymore. You would go into hiding, unable to face the temporary permanence and all the other oxymorons in this world we used to ignore. In this world, we'll fade into the background no matter what words are written down.
I hope you enjoyed this piece! I’ve had some major writer’s block and frustration with my work lately, so it was interesting to explore writing in the actual subject matter of this poem. Please feel free to leave feedback and writing challenges in the comments. I hope you guys are having a wonderful weekend. Stay safe and healthy out there.
Brooke
adventures of a typical high school student 