Persona, a poem by Rishan Tilve

 Persona

I’m a tiny little pencil,

Used all day,

Used to be the tallest,

But now I’m the shortest.

I’m used for 

Homework, drawing, and writing,

And more I can’t name.

Never getting a break,

Because I am needed every class.

Part of my head goes away everyday,

And whatever is left below it

is used too.

Going into a machine,

That cuts off my feet,

Days go by quickly 

Until I’m only an inch or two

Short.

Now, when he shoves me in,

It’s up to my shoulders,

And I know they will be gone,

Too.

Once I disappear,

He’ll forget I existed,

Use someone else to hit and scrape,

And finish all his work.