Ever had those dastardly homework problems
Where either the answers were in a far-out stratosphere
Or you just couldn’t summon a strategy
To go about the problem logically?
What if I  j u s t  t o o k  a  p e….
Hey!  No looking at the answers!
Whack! Goes the “ruler” scepter against studying surface.
What did I do?
What did you do?
I didn’t know what to do,
And no one was around to help me.
But I knew where the answers were,
And I was flipping toward the index of answers.
Okay, maybe the index doesn’t tell me how the answer makes sense,
But I need the answer(s)!
Or else I’m here all day,
Wondering when I will officially finish
The chronology of academic problems ordered in the exercise.
It’s not like I’m taking a test, right?
I mean, it’s studying.
Am I the only one that has ever peeked at answers
Or gone astray in the school day?
I just want to know…
I don’t want to sit here forever,
Because I will not stand for this.
I don’t already have the knowledge;
If I did, I wouldn’t be looking up the answer,
And I wouldn’t be fully human.
Please let me take a peek!
Promise I’ll understand! Promise!
For if I can’t peek at the answer,
It’ll be even more of a problem unsolvable!

It exists just to be used
Softened lead and wood the color of sunshine,
On a clear summer day at noon,
Sharp to be dull to be sharpened again,
Cut to be cut to be cut again,
Long, for the purpose of being shortened
Shortened, short
Made to waste away, to sacrifice,
simply to make its mark, your mark,
A mark that will never be its own
What do you own when you are simply a conduit
Of other ideas?
An implemented utensil made to hold,
To shape thoughts, to make words,
To make worlds,
Smooth as soft grass beneath flattened palms,
Light enough to flick between fingers,
A soft hand, a trailing finger, a lover’s touch,
Round and round, and then round again,
Here, then there, unthinkingly,
As your focus trails over…
And doubles back,
Before crystallizing, your tool suddenly held firm,
As you spin your tales, your worlds, your words,
Then pause, and look, your thoughts made tangible,
Your tool a stake, a spear, a weapon when needed,
Sharp and dangerous, ready,
A pike, a sword, a dagger,
Able to communicate the sharpest words, the harshest touch,
A slap, a hit, hard, and heavy,
Smarting like a bruise just found, just poked, just pushed against.
A tool, a weapon, a builder, a revolutionary,
With just the barest hint of pink, of regret, of dissonance,
To stop.
Your trailing words, your tirade, your letters of love to leave,
Second guessed and sectioned off and sacrificed successfully,
Erased from all of history,
Transformed, at once, to nothing.