Pencil by Lizzy Hibbard
Running, streaking, gliding
She encapsulates ideas
Curves and lines that stay in our memories
In our synapses and histories
She holds the world
And also nothing, the last remnants of sand
Falling away into ignorance
Twirling through thoughts and force and brilliance
Sweeping though tears and boredom
Forgotten in the end
Merely a means to an end
Doubt by Lena Mandell
It is through me that your words,
cold, despairing, melodramatic,
hit the unsullied page.
Your existential ramblings are absurd,
drawn out, your own fault.
You see, I know what I am for.
My ink stains the white page black.
I scribble, scrabble; and scratch out
I do not create; I transcribe.
I have no need for self-doubt.