Heir

Cut, print. That's a wrap.

Recorded mistakes,

But we can't turn back,

The hands of the clock.

Can't rewind it all.

It's not stopped.

It's just digital,

Taken literally,

Physically, spiritually,

This ritual resent.

Taking hits,

Cutting and bruising,

Kicks in the face,

Sans scratches and dents,

Still without a trace.

Taking hits,

This hard-knock life,

Rocks the boat.

Shake and shock ride.

Taking hits,

And giving them too.

When will you learn?

It's my turn,

To be just like you.