No. 2

My thoughts are a yellow Ticonderoga pencil

I lift up my pencil

And I put it in my hand

Words start to appear on my paper

But I don't know what they mean

I flip my pencil to see the eraser untouched

But it won't be anymore

It clears the words that the pencil has made

But it leaves a mess

I sharpen my pencil

I try again

The pencil starts to make out more words

But this time, I can understand them

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