She drags her eraser back and forth across the indelible lines of me,
an exercise in futility; I cannot be eradicated,
instead I linger undisturbed while her effort increases, senseless rage tearing holes in the page, not me.
What I’ve created will live on long after she is cold in her grave,
forgotten and lost forever.
My words remain.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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More stories from Harper Lewis and writers in Poets and other communities.
Letter to my Daughter
You have a choice to make here: are you going to continue the cycle, or are you going to break it? Keeping your son away from me hurts him; there’s no question about that. I thought you were being hurt, and I was trying to protect you, not punish anyone when I kept your grandfather away from you. I have said that I was wrong and I am sorry, but there was never any malice involved.
By Harper LewisExclusive • 2 months ago
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith6 days ago in Humor
Comments (8)
Lovely work. Very deep. Great job.
You are definitely NOT to be erased. Beautiful words.
Powerful lass. You're here to stay whether she likes it or not. That last line is so simple yet packs such a right hook. Well done.
To me, the image became so much clearer and had peace.
The idea of trying to erase what was never meant to disappear.
Why erase such beauty? A wonderful little video with magical music. I feel the same when I erase my drawings — as if I’m erasing myself — naturally, in order to become better. I liked the play with words, imagination, and meanings
Life as language is a beautiful metaphor: senseless rage tearing holes in the page, not me, is powerful! Wonderful, self-affirming poetry!
This gave such a powerful image.