You. I can scrawl
out of my life, just
as easily as I composed
you into it
scribble, scribble, scratch
crumple, rumple, toss

Therein lies the beauty
of being a writer, I can
convince myself I am
in control

I wonder about his view from the bottom
of the trash can, crumpled
and discarded- looking
up at the ceiling.

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