The Pencil Poem by Allison McDowell

It is lying so quietly
on the desk.
No one really pays attention
to it
because it has no lead.
It's all gone.
The only thing that
gives it importance
is gone.
The pencil has
been sharpened
far too many times.
So now it's just a
tiny piece of wood-
useless.
Somebody spots
the worn out pencil.
A glimpse of hope!
but that does not matter.
The pencil doesn't work
at all.
You can't give back
the lead it has
lost.
So it lies on the desk.
Waiting.
To just be thrown away.