I wrote a poem

I used to have a pencil
A pencil made of wood
I'd get another pencil
but pencils don't write good
The don't record the horror
They can't write how it stays
They won't track all the hours
They can't capture the days

So I should get a camera
Perhaps a video
Affixed atop my head or hat
On everywhere I go
It would know naught of feelings
And couldn't show the pain
And can't distinguish sincere acts
from actions we all feign

Everything's internal
and nothing can be shared
I can't know if I'm alone in this
Is everyone this scared?
I see a veil of normalcy
And everything seems fine
Is apprehension everywhere
Or is it only mine?

Perhaps we all should just ignore
All these internal sights
And only hold the things we see
To be what's true and right
It's unfair to posterity
And gets well in our way
To live lives unrecordable
So let's throw those away
---
I was just walking through Union Square Station, and this young lady said, "You know how when old people read poetry? That's just stupid." I thought I'd try some. The first four lines were divinely inspired, but I felt it should be longer, so I added more words in the meter and rhyming scheme.