Fog on the Window

The world was a blank canvas

Clean, crisp, and empty

The footsteps of humankind

Not yet scarring the porcelain surface

Like a winter morning

The warm air clinging on to

Cold windows

Fog collecting on the glass

Covering and hiding the world

Outside

Blocking your view

As time went on

Fingertips touched

Poked

Smeared

Across the surface

Wiping away the fog

As if it meant nothing

Spreading away the perfection

Gave way to the world beyond

Children’s eyes peek through

The spaces between fog

And clear, empty glass

Witnessing society

Without censorship’s veil

Ugly words written into the fog

Funny faces overlapping one another

Unfinished tic-tac-toe games

Names of loved ones written

Then crossed out or rubbed away

Only to reveal more empty glass

We have yet to run out of space

Nearing the edges

Of the windowpanes

We see the world

Behind those words and drawings

The world is scratched

Scarred

Exposed to mankind

We deal with the aftermath

Exhaling breath on the glass

Fog slowly filling in the words

The faces

The ugly

But the outlines remain

We still see the past

Winter will end

There will be no more fog

To cover the damages

Forced to look out

Witness what we’ve done

Unable to overlap

Or smear away

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