There's so many things I want to do right now, but all I seem capable of is pressing back space and erase.
Eraseing the words and time tried phrases, deleting the ideas 'til all there is left is a blank white page.
A page with so much potential, bearing none of the marks of its' purgements, of its' rebirths.
Why is it so difficult to create something I don't want to destroy? Why do I keep starting over...?