Under the Clap of An Eraser
I feel like I am a doodle on a chalk board.
As something of my importance comes to mind,
They erase my feet.
Slowly, as I become more unwanted,
My calves suffer the same fate.
As expected,
My knees go next.
I'm left to hobble on my thighs
Until they find something better to be drawn
And erase them as well.
As they grow in imagination,
I shrink under the clap of an eraser.
Soon, I'm left with nothing but a head.
But that goes as well,
And I become nothing but memories.
Memories that will soon disappear as well.
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