The story of a pencil

I am a pencil born as tall and slim.
Wrapped in plane or stripped apparels,
I begin my life with a sharp edge and thrills.
They hold me and I work,
They put me down and I rest.
I don't know why i walk miles
on those white and straight pages,
but I feel happy to fill their blank spaces.
I give birth to dancing curves and
I feel complete watching them play.
My only fear is how long they survive,
until someone will rub away their life.
I show my grief of losing words,
hurting myself and hitting my head.
They say doctors are god and again
he is here to sharp me and make me whole.
I don't know if its a curse,
I am forced to write unwanted words.
My only desire is to make blank pages
full with meaningful and innocent siblings.
But I have the strangest life
I am forced to make a life .
I am forced to  take a life.
Sometimes I bring two lives together.
Sometimes I separate two lives rather.
This is me and I am a pencil,
I die walking miles and always
replaced with another pencil with same fate.