Empty Slate

A simple time,
that I remember,
when life was blank,
And I could write anything,
Become anyone and be anything,
with imagination and tales,
so strange,
life was simple with,
my clear and empty slate,

now my slate,
Cluttered and flaked,
leads my life,
Taking hold,
Instead of me,
choices made,
Stay in my heart,
and scar the future,
with the past.

poem by Rebecca Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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