my pencil
it’s the key to my inner world
my world so vast, full to its capacity
but somehow, always room for more
inside of me, it’s intricate, unique
so much happening within
if only for itself, my mind could speak
so many questions, with many possibilities
all sorts of thoughts, good, bad
different confidences, and different insecurities
constantly working, hours on end
concepts galore, inside my brain, the lights are always on
conclusions to come to, and problems to end
there’s so much inside
how to unload it by mouth,
I’ve never tried
but I have my pencil, it’s always there
I can always count on it
it’s my one thing that’s quietly whispering - I’ll always be here.