There was once a normal pencil.
But was it just an ordinary writing utensil?
As kids sharpened, wrote, sharpened, wrote,
Its life got shorter and shorter as it was used to write a careless passed note
The pencil had only an inch left and the sharpener swallowed it whole,
That was the end of Phil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thts cute for u to b thinking that way..... u must b a really sweet girl