The Pencil

Wishing to erase the last Mistake,
I look over my shoulder,
To see no eraser,
Forced to deal with what I've done,
I am guided to determination's path rarely taken.

When pressured and pushed too hard,
My head breaks,
Leaving me nervous and afraid of what the future holds,
Another stone to step over, 
Another fear to overcome.

As I am sharpened and sharpened,
with wisdom and wit,
I become smaller and smaller to the world,
Very important, 
But unoticed to the secular.

Until one day,
I'm to short to use and thrown away...
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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