The Words You Write Are Forever

Life is like a typewriter.

Make a mark, they say, but remember one thing.

The mark you make is permanent.

You can’t go back and you can't erase.

You can only cover up what you've already done.

Maybe if you had used the brain you possess first you wouldn't be here,

Looking at this mark stuck in the past,

So far back, so long ago, that you’re using a typewriter.

A dark room.

But not so dark that you can't see the ink you wish you hadn't used in the first place.

You now reside in this place until you fix it.

But what you don’t know is that there is no fixing.

There’s no more lying and covering.

There is no more protection.

Protection is only temporary. 

It’s what’s on the inside that matters, they say.

But you're not sure what it is. 

What if this mark is what was on the inside the whole time?

You might not know that, but you do know that the covering was temporary 

And the words you write are forever.