A Pencil's Memoir

I am as sharp as you want me
I then become dull and broken
I reveal for others to see
Lies and truths all left unspoken

I am easily found by some
And missing to others as well
Sad the pace of this world you run
Since you forget me when I fell

I know inside my yellow shell
I am cold, solemn, black and cold
But, like a book, you can quite tell
I can fabricate stories told

Much to the ones who read this
This poem I have helped create
At my death I will sorely miss
The void sheets which I desecrate