Broken Pencil
I always thought writing with a broken pencil was useless and pointless
But then I became a broken pencil myself
I became emptiness, a wilderness of my own thoughts
I became depression and healing all at once
But then I was my blank pages created with empty pieces of hope
Then there were my sharp edges and ink to begin my journey of a scowl life
Pain was my sharpness with everything I did leaving a mark of grace
Making visible my scars to be useless from the inside
I was a broken pencil written for the last time and my destination was changed
But then something was important for me to know that I had to turn problems to opportunity
That at some point broken pencils, lost erasers
But mine lost its mind to its broken heart
Poet
Masego Nkuna
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