Analysis of Pencil Eraser

The brand new pencil stood, eraser strong.
The artist started sketching something new,
A portrait seeming somehow right and wrong.
Eraser functioned, fixing lines askew.
The pencil fell. A poet found it next.
Its lead then scribbled syllables with strain.
The poet read his words, his lines, his text,
And said, “I must erase and start again.”
Eraser gone, the pencil sat unused.
Whenever gripped, it came up short
Because it had to plead guilt when accused.
Abandoned, no successes to report.
The children covered their eyes as they cried,
For their beloved grandfather had died.