Metaphor

I am a proofread, amended manuscript.
An altered
copy of the undesirable original
where history was unnecessarily edited:
Delete this. Add that.
I was broken down into parts,
each line, each word, each letter
declared this blue-eyed literary
initiative all wrong.
The authors claimed I was filled with
mistakes:
disconnected, superfluous,
unstructured,
fragmented.
Each page was rewritten
until I was nothing but
a collection of multiple revisions,
decidedly unfit for publication.
But authors don’t write stories.
Stories write stories.
I am my own story,
my own unfinished truth,
my own work in progress,
my own creative effort.
And in the beauty of our revisions is
where our story will be told.

Talk to me!

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