4 August 2012
Blunt and worn down, I think it's past its time.
The trail it leaves is no longer sharp or defined.
And what happened to my sharpener? I swear I had it near. It's funny how a little piece of plastic can turn into something held dear.
And what about pens? I've been offered them before. But I'm too frightened to use them, terrified to explore.
Their mark isn't soft It doesn't fade I cannot trust.
And that's why I stick to my insubstantial lead dust.
(Just something that popped into my head!)
My Pencil's Nib Is Broken • Opuss № I