[000/0002] The Pencil

A poem about how 'The Lead' became our fate, and 'The Eraser' our best friend.

Mar 17, 2026

Cross-posted by [Untitled]

"Hi everyone, Away from the usual lesson plans and educational talk, I’ve started a bit of a side-project. It’s a poetry collection called [UNTITLED]. I’m cataloging life’s oddities and nostalgia as if they were items in an old Argos warehouse—starting with the "Book of Dreams" and the high street. If you fancy a 30-second creative break from the syllabus, you can find the first few entries here: mtfletcher.substack.com No marking or assessment required. Best, MT Fletcher"

- Matt Fletcher

a pencil with a yellow tip — Photo by Daniel Shapiro on Unsplash

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

         H
         / \
        / B \
       |   |   |
       |   |   |     In youth, it was a yellow wand,
       |   |   |     a tool for scrawling out our names,
       |   |   |     for chewing while we daydreamed hard,
       |   |   |     and scoring points in paper games.
       |   |   |
       |   |   |     But now the lead feels more like fate;
       |   |   |     it drafts the plans and signs the lease,
       |   |   |     allowing us to smudge the truth
       |   |   |     and find a temporary peace.
       |   |   |
       |   |   |     For pens are far too permanent—
       |   |   |     they shout in ink what's done is done.
       |   |   |     A pencil lets us start again,
       |   |   |     as if our lives had just begun.
       |   |   |
       \____/
       |        |      <-- The Eraser:
       |____|      Our best friend.

📄 TRANSACTION RECORD

Item: [000/0002] The Pencil Condition: Partially used/Requires sharpening.
Note: Best used when drafting agreements, telling the partial truth, or wishing you could start your life over.