Wite-out in Poetry

I am the author of life
As death breeds
Inside of me
Destroying and recreating
The passions of my Ego
Metamorphosing life
As I die
One part at a time

Yesterday’s memories
Parish away
And have gone astray
It all seems strange
To watch myself decay
As I become “The Forgotten”
Tomorrow dies
As I separate myself from the lies

My emotions fade
As I watch a rose
Wither and die
One petal at a time
Empathizing with those
That fell to the ground
Dried and eaten
To never be found

My breath is cold
Temperature is low
When I speak
The words come out
And I watch the black ink
Disappear
Wite-out
And I was never here