the tip of my pencil is no longer made
from lead but i’m told has been swapped
for something called graphite
they claim it will kill me much slower
but i’m afraid before it begins to affect
my body or even my brain it has already
killed my plight

for if that which i use to write with has
no affect on the longevity of my life
i find i must seek for acidic paper
or take up drugs while writing so i can
bleed over these pages and hope
the future holds something terrible
as i spit out my fears on the page

begging the last few words will somehow
be dabbled in blood from my sweat filled
brow.

alas, i’m too hopeful and perhaps too healthy
which helps my dreams for the future