"we are all collateral damage for someone's beautiful ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of onslaught."
inanimate
pencils are so beautiful,
each of them differently colored,
write different colors, different shades.
a pencil does become blunt at times
but then we simply sharpen it
do you think it cries?
because it's leaving a piece of it behind
maybe not.
maybe it knows
that to move forward, we have to leave a part of us behind.
or maybe it trusts,
thinks we are god
even though we put it through so much pain.
it keeps writing,
no matter the season.
it does have it's bad days
when it writes too light
or keeps breaking
or breaking down, either way.
but it gets better
with eventual sharpening,
more pain.
and a day comes
when it is of no use
yet it still remains proud,
as it is.
just a fraction of it's former self
but still a pencil.
YOU ARE READING
the musings of a wallflower
Poetry"that day, he came to me and pointed at the sky, saying, 'What a beautiful, beautiful moon.' but he was all i could see" i write of infinite dreams to escape harsh reality. shortlisted for wattys 2018
