Pencil (Objective Writing)


The wooden slated, loud mouth object stares at me from a safe distance as my fingers and sore forearms remember the tedious and oddly annoying tingle of necessity that flows down the soul of my ligaments. In fact this one thing sums of the atmosphere and psychology of high school life entirely. The needy head of the body which demands constant attention is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Promising all your inner thoughts can be displayed with the safety net of the the butt end of itself incase you regret your own words. Forgetting to mention that this is in fact a folly when the betrayal of breadcrumbs in the form of ash lay and wait while you stare at the stain of declarations you can’t in-fact remove. But here we go again. You sharpen the end as if to sharpen a sword on to allow this necessary villain to evolve and continue its havoc because of your deep need to rebel and let out all tones of your humanity onto the white judge and jury of all your synapses. Friend. Enemy. Weapon. Solution. Peace. War. Wisdom. Reason. Faith. Doubt. What gives this once upon a time the right to control humanity. Is it’s the wind blown stud that stood so tall in the cool vastness that was nature. Does it resent the harsh blade and gas powered heat that brought it to its knees and now it seeks revenge. Why.

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