If you could erase the past, would you?
It’s a question I find myself asking all the time.
I know they say it makes you who you are today,
but I don’t want to be the way it’s made me;
so untrusting, so scared I’ll always get hurt,
running away from all the people who say they’re there.
So, if you could erase the past, would you?
Or would you rather remember the hurt of it all?

If you could stop time for a little just to breathe,
would you want to take that minute or keep going?
There are times when it all feels like it’s too much,
but I know if I stopped I wouldn’t keep going;
knowing that there’s still so much I don’t know.
This world is making my mind spin way too often.
So if you could stop time for a minute just to breathe,
would you want to take that minute or just keep going?

I keep trying to erase the memories, the feeling, the sensations, because what we had was an illusion.

I consider myself an impression of art....
Not the art you see in the museum's or the galleries
But the ones left unfinished and imperfect
The blank end of the canvas
The absence of completion
I am each erased line, the unsteady brushstrokes, and every mistake that leads to the Masterpiece.
I'm a work in progress

I dream that the frogs in my backyard have wings
and they fly up to the trees
in the dewy light of dawn
to meet their maker
and kiss under the canopied shade of listless leaves
grazing their backs
and reminding them of simpler times
down from the watery swamp they came from
their webbed feet leave prints on the bark
muddy and cumbersome
but innocent in their doings
a flash flood of lightning  awakens me
i'm laying in damp earth again
time to go back inside

White mask covering your face
A ***** sin you won't erase
It makes everyone think you're clean like a princess
Pretty innocent face in the first place

I pray
To heaven
To hell
Erase my soul
So another
May take
My place