Pencil Journey

April 30, 2017
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You could called me Dixon
At Least that is what is marked on me
I always have adventures
Always used and never done
Sure I might be dull and my pink eraser is chop off
But it is me
I travelled all around this middle school
Once fresh out of the box and into the wild
Caged in a pencil pouch sometimes
But always left behind
I rolled into a corner and sadly forgotten
Laying there dead and alone in math class
Waiting every second to be taken by someone
I been also abused too
Snapped like a twig for your fun
My pain
You throw my bottom self into the garbage where half of me felt gone forever
That is why I am writing this poem
I can’t erase my mistakes anymore

Still from my darkest day to the most highest mountain
I will always be a pencil
From the box
On the paper
In the sharpener
And into empty bottomless pit of trash

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