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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Writing · #1914335
Is a pain in the back
Life was so much simpler
before pencils could talk,
now I have to rise at two A.M.
to take mine for a walk.

It won't let me sleep
because it thinks I'm fat
so I must walk my pencil
or it stabs me in the back.

The pencil was a gift
from a secret admirer
who sent it through the mail
with an exercise flier.

I've tried to lose it several times
in the park or on the street,
but it returns everyday
and wakes me from my sleep.

I even tried burning it,
but it set off my smoke alarm
I'm beginning to think
that it's a cursed charm.

I don't know what to do
except to walk it everyday
and save up the money
to send it far away.

Maybe I can persuade NASA
to send it to Mars
or put it in a capsule
to the distant stars.

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