People like to blot
People like me out
With heavy clots of
Black ink
Or white out
Depending on how much damage
They want to pretend I did,
And how often they like to
Throw pity parties
And how much proof
They want to have.

I take ownership
Of my sins
But don't try to make them
More than they were.

But with how often
I've been
Blotted out

It's easy to understand
Why I want you to
Remember my name.

It's easy to erase someone
From your memory
From existence
And pretend they were never
A part of you
Or you never a part of them

It takes great bravery
To look at the mistakes you made
And admit they were yours.