High School Pencil.

I wrote us down in pencil,
Typical high school HB number two.
We thought about making our story more permanent,
But ink was just an appealing dream.
We fell apart long before that.

My mind found the strength to erase,
Countless hours of perfect words.
Every disasterous sentence that we felt once held harmony,
Smudged across my paper,
Even ripped it in places.
There was never a quick fix.

High school pencil was seemingly impermanent,
But it left my page scarred.
And even though the whiteout went on smooth,
It peeled off in the end.
Solutions always came cheap with us.

Crumpled and tear-stained,
We're a mess.
Sure we were on top of the pile,
But we were nothing but a paper destined to fail.
Written carelessly in high school pencil,
We were every teacher's disapointment.