I am slowly gilding against paper;
Expressing the feelings of my holder.
The words flow through the hand down the fingers to the wood then to the paper,
And creates a wonderful piece of art.
The sound of smooth scratches against the paper make you close your eyes and dream.
The color doesn't make a difference in what you feel.
The taste is a gross taste that you have never imagined.
The feelings keep spilling out, it won't stop.
There are too many feelings to write down on this simple piece of paper.
The lines keep it all straight and keep it all clean and neat.
Oh no you must now sharpen with the razor in mechanics.
It's lost its point
I always say love is like an unsharpened pencil, there's just no point to it.
The pencil is smooth again with its sharp edge, and keeps writing.
It keeps writing what you arenâ??t able to tell the person you love.
