If I could just go back and make it different-
Play God for a few chapters
Write it my way
Not his way
Where in this hell would I begin-
Change the first sentence and the last one's twisted
Like writing with
a bleeding knife
Torn up and broken
the mess is still bleeding
Now between chapters eleven and twelve
Try to clean up the chapters so soiled
I wouldn't know where to begin
The blind man and I
have this in common
Can't read the way it ends
Resigned to fall back into the sentence
this breath brings me to
In a story I cannot figure out
can't change
don't foresee
what is written in the end
Created in chapters I wouldn't have written
if I was him
Through sentences I would blot out
if I had his pen
Doggie-eared memories
half covered
pages crumpled
blurred with a child's tears
Underlined passages disconnected
From innocence to
Fear-filled brokenness
Where does this crooked story end?
If I could just go back and make it different-
Play God for a few chapters
Write it my way
Not his way
Where in this hell would I begin?
©2007 by Brittany Mayer
