Pointless
a broken pencil
my thoughts wander
through the halls
of wonder
trying to make
beauty from mess
my thoughts they struggle
to put everything in place
hold it together put it just fall into
more pieces
pieces that can be turned into art
reused to create an image
not of perfection
but of life
not perfect
but messy
so incredibly messy
and we all just go along
solving problems
as we go
and the beauty of mess
is we can always turn
it into our perfect
so you see
this poem is a broken pencil
the only way to fix it is
to keep going.