All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Draft paper
You held me,
A clean piece of paper,
And within minutes,
I felt a nudge from the tip of your pencil,
And there was no such thing as clean,
And in no way was I ever to look the same again.
The stabs of the dancing lead did not bother me,
For every error,
The pressure of an eraser removed the faults,
And I felt almost reassurred,
But the blemishes of grey remained still within the corners of every written word.
The erasures caused a harder blow I had to endure.
A bolder word to replace the old, gentle one,
A thicker grey to oppose the lighter one.
Yet you pressed on, erased harder,
Making holes and a mess of me.
Eventually you stopped erasing and applied
Slash marks instead.
Stab over stab.
It made it easier to get to the end.
You hold me,
A flawed piece of paper,
And within seconds,
You take another sheet,
And there was no such thing as me.
Yet, you write the same words
With the same pencil,
But the new sheet does not feel the same pain.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
I wrote this in my senior year of high school for one of my projects. I envisioned the idea of being used by somebody and hitting rock-bottom with that person, only to be disposed of for someone new.