An Ode to the Pencil that was Sharpened too much.

I watched as the tree once again endured torture,

Its skin being flayed by a blunt, discoloured blade,

The shavings of skin fall hopelessly into the bin;

Forgotten and distant,

No funeral and no recognition,

Just the sound of scratching and scraping

The little, broken tree shrinking once again to a miniature portrait of its former self.

© Greta Alise Haley

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