I want to sharpen my mind like a pencil
Shove it in a machine, grind it down
Until I find the point
How often could I do it
Until nothing was left of me?
A nub to be tossed away
I know, I know, it’s so obvious
A metaphor cranked out in elementary school
Maybe he’s the one still writing
The one that stood alone at the classroom door
In-between the chatting groups of friends
Spinning the gears, blowing away the dust
Looking for that perfect point
Ready to break, but
Sharp enough to threaten
The world with his words
About the Creator
Sean A.
A happy guy that tends to write a little cynically. Just my way of dealing with the world outside my joyous little bubble.
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