Pencil Loves Paper Not
I give a circumcision to the
head of my pencil.
While it introduces itself to
the paper, and then they have
full intercourse.
Flowing gently across the paper's
pale body and beautiful blue lines,
no curves at all just simply straight
blue lines.
Oh could this be love?
Most certainly not love.
For the paper states to pencil,
this is the end of our show.
For we must part our separate
ways with no emotion, leaving
the pencil's lead oh so broken.
Oh poor pencil there's more
pages you will kiss before
your end, listen to this notion.
Fix yourself, for right now,
your lead is simply broken.
Vote for this poem
Pencil Loves Paper Not
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