Saturday, February 1, 2025

EMPTY SLATE

 


My ink is different

when it dries there will not be invisible messages

the space I occupied will be

just as blank as before I was born

for I've chosen to forgive all 


And to do that

I've chosen to erase my memories

how can I have written anything at all on my slate

when by forgiving time erased itself?


you never hurt me

And I never lived.

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