I am the graphite, in the pencil which you hold.
I make my appearances where you place me, and nowhere else.

You use me to scratch out your thoughts.
You use me to draw these lines of conformity, to which I wish not to abide.
But I must - as you create these lines from myself.

Write on, you hold the power the same way you hold me,
With a firm, yet slightly loose grip.
You hold all control.

"I do not wish for this."

I was once full, respectable and of use, but you have worn me down.
I have been degraded, and as simple graphite I can not simply put myself together again.
You have diminished my encasing, sharpened away my boundary's.