If Only

January 19, 2012
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An eraser
On top of a pencil;
Only there to fix.
Everything I’m used I get

I’m used.
I can’t write,
I only take.
Take away the
Words, lines, images.
Why must I fix?

I’m not pleasant to hear
when rubbed the wrong way.
I feel lonely, stranded.
A pencil has friends who,
sparpen him to a point.
I lose myself;
Until I have nothing left.

If only I could
be on the other side; I could
write, make, do.
I could, would be,
A pencil.

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