Thursday, June 9, 2011

Number 2

You use me only when it's convenient or necessary.
Once you're done you toss me aside
and don't even bother to pick me up when
I roll off your dusty desk.

If I become too dull for you,
you just cut me up until I fit your needs.
But someday I'll be too worn down to sharpen
and you'll just replace me with someone new.

You use me. Abuse me.
Bite me. Chew me to bits.
And then deny the scars.

But if I try to leave a mark,
you can simply erase my words
and with them, the proof of my existence.

Honestly,
I know that I am only temporary,
and that one day you'll exchange me
for something more permanent.

I just wish that until that day comes,
you'd treat me like I was number one,
and not just number two.

2 comments:

Captain Alexander said...

Wow.

This is awesome, so much meaning can be pulled from this poem if you read into it the right way, and it's not even that hard to read into it like that. Everything about it still remains true for pencils, and for everythinggg else. :c

Sad, but beautiful. I am envious of your ability to take something so simple and split it in half, releasing the atomic bomb of wisdom in the form of a poem. Keep it up. :)

fylisfe said...

What? This was about something other than pencil? o_O

Just kidding haha. I'm glad you liked it.
Also:

"Take something so simple and split it in half, releasing the atomic bomb of wisdom in the form of a poem."
^ That was a great comment. You should turn it into a poem x3

There was an error in this gadget