Transcription
From the Point of View of a Writing Utensil
I am a papermate pencil,
Numero dos.
Dressed in a design of
Handcrafted wooden,
or I am nonetheless
Golden glimmering plastic,
Mortal graphite,
And a spongy pink eraser
To top it all.
I am controlled by the people,
For the people.
Their wish is my command,
Even when I float from hand to hand.
I give life to hidden minds.
Or only one long enough
To fill pages with the
Essence of my slate blood.
Sometimes I am revived,
My point refined, renewed,
And I am surviving again.
Tediously resting in a warm hand,
Or perhaps it was cold.
I can’t remember much,
When my memory gets erased
By mistakes
And critical outrage.
So don’t use me,
Just to lose me.
Instead,
Let me be your yellow friend.
From your brain,
Down your hand.
I will comprehend.
About the Creator
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.