My Pencil War

It will erase the phrase it writes,
that's written on a page -
at other times it writes more words...
it's difficult to gage.

There is a war that's going on,
that's not on land or sea.
A thousand times my pencil flips,
the two just can't agree.

The selfish lead, the soft eraser -
the two can't get along.
They both appear so far apart.
Each thinks the other wrong.

Their battles seem to linger on -
Confusion wills to grow.
This poem is of truth and love.
Conclusions, can we know?

Am I just like my pencil,
that I take off the shelf -
fumbling between my fingers,
at war within myself?

Am I just like my pencil,
in incoherent bind?
Does warring begin or finish,
within my mixed-up mind?

Seek I, the left, or to my right -
or back, or simply stop?
My mind runs in full circles as
the pencil fights nonstop.

The truth still lives - the answer, one,
to settle this whole score -
until then I, a traitor am,
inside my pencil war.

The truthful words, I'll never find,
or my complete reward -
unless I search the Holy Word
and listen to my Lord.

I compromise my writing,
and it is always blurred -
if I can't lay my pencil down,
to comprehend God's Word.