Insufficient friction in my fingers was the cause,
Despite my grip the pencil slipped
And fell onto the floor.
I cried and howled and wept and wailed,
And clutched the air in vain,
But downwards through the air it sailed,
And snapped the nib in twain.
I sobbed into my handkerchief,
Let out an anguished moan,
Oh why, oh why did I leave my
best sharpener at home?
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