By Diana Sanchez
Let them be pens; although some of them may look nice on the outside it’s the ink inside that counts.
I’d rather be whiteout, trying my best to cover up the mistakes of the pens, trying to fix everything up to make it look like nothing happened.
Even though it won’t look and feel the same,
the only way for it to be the same is to start over.
I’d rather be the fixer than the doer, I’m trying not to leave permanent scars, I’m the stitches that heal up the wounds.
I’d rather mend up relationships than end them,
pens write and write without even thinking it’s the whiteout that goes over and tries to fix the mistakes.
Once the mistake is “erased,” the pen comes back and writes over it. I’d rather try my hardest, and fail, than do nothing.
The pens are the ones who aren’t even thinking and the whiteout is the one overthinking. . .
Trying to keep everyone together, even if at times I’m too late.
