As God took away the eraser from me
and took away the pencil with which I wrote.
I became scared of making mistakes.
So, I read others', copied them, and quoted 'em as my own.
And as God took away the eraser from me
and gave me this pen, which I accepted with glee.
I became aware of enmity
and how harsh the feeling of guilt can be...
And as I wrote songs and
a journal-worth of memories.
I became aware that
change is such a terrorist.
And as God gave me a new pen
to write more about the days I lived...
I bought many shades of ink to write.
Joy, anxiety, and some decisions for which I grieved
The happy songs I wrote with the old pencil
Its graphite has loosened up, so has the bravado
I forgot the illegible things I wrote with the pen,
The stain of the Inkpen never faded though...
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