the fruit of my pencil's grief

Sometimes as we write, there's something we intended to express, the best word in the best order, we believed. But it turned out to be words that misled or being misinterpreted. Literature explains to me the pun meaning, metaphors and how the freedom of mind works. But shouldn't there be a kind of language that could make you get the meaning just right, nothing more, nothing less. It might be a very shallow way to say, but it might just as well be the problem of a keyboard that created this feeling of incongruity. When a word is only a collection of alphabet, we could no longer see the eraser mark beneath a certain word, the fruit of the pencil's grief, the hidden meaning behind all the anticipation.