Eraser

My duty is to fix your mistakes

Battling the incorrectness

Of your thoughts

Removing your shame

I am a gardener’s rake

A tool of tending, a mess to take

I clear the weeds, sow the seeds

A garden grown, a future seed

Weaving a path of white and grey

A tapestry of mistakes erased away

For my own erasure, my own value is lost

Bits and pieces of me

Rubbed away

Stained

A reminder of your error

A graveyard of your greed

Is my service all you long for?

Why do I give so much?

With not even a bit of gratitude,

In return?

Or was I built to be your object?

Ripe to be used

Like a tool

Without even a look of recognition

You will notice me finally

When I am just a stub

Lucas Lee