The Life of a Pencil

I was sitting on the table,
When a person came walking by.
They said something about labeling a label,
Then the next thing I knew, I was in the sky.

The person took me to another room,
It smelled like old perfume.
I also think,
That the color of the wall was bright pink.

Then my world turned upside down,
I was scribbling on a white surface.
When they were done,
I was turned back around.

Then I was put into,
Some sort of tomb.
It was dark,
With much gloom.

What am I going to do?
Until I am needed again,
I’ll have to stay here,
In my despair.

(The picture is an original drawing)