Pencil Hurt
Sitting there I prayed for light
Sitting there I prayed for pain
Sitting there I held a pencil
In my hand a quivering tool
Shaking, wailing,
Calling my a fool.
Even my own possessions,
Hated me.
Wanted to see me gone.
The more I tried to control my pencil,
The more I felt that I was wronged.