Erase
Wear it away.
Let the rubber shed its skin
across the page like ash.
The eyes lose their grip.
Focus fractures.
Shapes dissolve into smoke.
Gone from view,
buried in a grave of blank paper.
Still, the spirit festers.
Nonetheless,
it bleeds from the mind,
a rust-colored river
through shattered chambers.
Memory is a locked room.
The blood dries.
The walls remain.
And nothing is ever truly erased
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