Cursor

Run little cursor, eat the words I have written

Chase them across the page

Stop then, and give me more, give me your words

But they aren’t right, they never are

Go back again, and eat my words.

Creator and destroyer, you are both

Spitting my words out then eating them again

Run across the page and leave words behind, then turn and eat them again

Be the pen, the styles, the pencil, but be the eraser too

As much as you create, a destroyer is what you are

Hold them hostage until you get the words you need

Just hold the ones you have taken back until I find the new ones, the right ones

Yet every word that meets your embrace seems doomed to fail

Every word that sees a page is then destroyed

Where are the right ones?

The words that change people

The ones that heal

Where are the words that tell you what the world has really become?

Or what the world will look like tomorrow

Where can you get the shining words that I can see come to life?

The soft ones that seem to caress me as I drink them in

The rough ones that leave a scar?

Why won't you show me these words, little curser?

Why must you tangle everything I give you then go and take it back?

Run little curser but this time create, don’t eat my words

Don’t eat them ever again