Sharpening

The lead,
Rubbed down til it's no more
Than a dull nub.
I put the wood in the hole
And turn the crank three times,
Then stop to look.
Still dull.
I turn it five times more,
And hear a crack.
Damn.
I take it out
And remove the black chalk
Before putting it back in and 
Turning it again.
The pencil grows shorter and shorter,
Til I think that 
If I were to turn it once more,
It would no longer exist.
Do I dare risk it?
I inch it slowly forward...
Crack.
Damn.