✏️ A pencil speaks…


 ✏️ A pencil speaks…



I am a pencil. My life changes day by day. If someone takes me in their hands, it is as if I have a life. My value is not because I can write. It is because of the things that are written by me.

On the first day, when they put me in a school bag, I felt an unimaginable joy. I drew letters and drawings on the pages of a book. When someone held me and wrote “Mom” and “Dad”, I felt like I was building a world.

But little by little, I am being cut… My length is getting shorter… Someone says “the pencil is short”. But that is not a problem for me. As I get smaller, the things I write become bigger.

I can also correct other mistakes. That made me understand. Life also makes mistakes, but they can be corrected.

Finally, I have become very small. No one uses me anymore. But I am not sad. I know that all those stories, dreams, and memories written by me… are still somewhere in the world. 

 I am a pencil.

Although my life is short, the stories written by me continue to live on… ✏️✨

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