When sunbeams slash my skin and bird songs burn,

these ears that let them in, and earths own turn,

flings my feet from the floor till I can't stand,

Ill always keep my pencil in my hand.

For when a simple step seems like a mile,

extended when I forget how to smile, 

when I'm not sure if on my feet I'll land,

you'll find me with a pencil in my hand.

Across a smooth white page, I cannot lie.

within a bounded book, I cannot hide.

between the lines, the walls no longer stand,

if I just keep this pencil in my hand.

Addiction, churning gut, and pain, and doubt,

the needles that have sewn shut up my mouth, 

they have no power in my written land,

so I will keep this pencil in my hand.