Pencil.
Soft graphite, cut to a hexagon, number 2.
My instrument, my tool.
You paint like a brush.
Smooth, soft, seamless strokes
sliding across sheets upon sheets
of paper, the great canvas.
You scratch like a knife.
Rough, sharp, brutal slashes
scraping across sheets upon sheets
of paper, the terrible canvas.

Pencil!
The ultimate weapon,
the ultimate peacemaker.
With you at my side we can take on the world.
Pass a test.
Write a story.
Conquer hearts and minds.
Words as our ammunition
together I and you
can create.
Together I and you
can destroy.
Together I and you
will write.