Pencil Man

By
The author in his study
Thinking hard,
Trying to get inspired.
He spins his pencil and crumples up paper.
Slowly,
He falls
Asleep.

He awakes, skinny and yellow
A pink rubber hat atop his head.
Wherever he walks he is followed
By a dark lead trail.
Stories spill form him
Like a broken sand timer.
He falls over, his feet broken
He is slowly lowered in to a small dark motor.





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