Stolen Pencil

Stolen pencil, this poets utensil. A tax refunded bit of loot. When I was younger, I wouldn't have given a hoot. Just how pathetic can one soul be? Can't even afford a sliver of a tree. Well if redemption can be written. This is my offing that I'm remittn'. It raises questions of what to do. Degrees of sin in me and you. I clip my nails in a stolen ashtray. I've done it for years, what more can I say. Repudiation for such a minor act. No one spends much time on such thoughtless tact. Pay it forward and steal it blind. Just a little guilt to ease the mind.