I watch my poems get wrote up in technology.
My paper and pen they don't acknowledge me.
They refuse to follow me.
I neglect them for a keyboard.
I move my thumbs across the pad until their sore.
A paper used to be raggedy with erase marks of frustration.
No more balled up papers with lines through sentences for restoration.
I just erase lines with ease of a delete button
But when I erase sometimes I lose my train of thought
And that's when pen and paper are bought.
To show the true artist their mistakes
And life is made of them.
Be true to life and write sometimes because you'll never forget how to type
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