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I am My Pen...
Chewed up, worn out, sputtering
Almost out of ink, ideas faded, words stumbling
Grip slipping
Shell Crumbling
Blunt-Force trauma and my contents come tumbling out
And I realize I’m mostly empty
I realize there’s really nothing much left in me
Just a well of ideas that’s running low
Just a hole I use to get out my flow
Just a button people push to make me say things
But I don’t like my buttons pushed, I’m not a play-thing
Treat me with respect, I’ll help you slay things
Mightier than the sword, the points I make, they sting
I know that I’m a tool, but I ain’t that bad
It’s only cause there’s so many things that I never had
I shake hands a lot but I ain’t never held nobody
I guess that’s cause all my relationships are kinda shoddy
I always feel used, mishandled and discarded
And then my spring breaks, and I am broken-hearted
And I think I’m done, I think it’s all over
Cause I’m a broken pen, and I am not sober
So I lay myself down, and I wait for the end
I wait for the inevitable fall into the trash bin.
But it’s a miracle, because I’m still here
And my spring’s fixed, and I survived the beer
It turns out I have more ink then I thought I did
And I can live a little longer cause I’m just a kid
So I can keep going, yes I will survive
And one day I’ll find someone to hold me until I die.
I’d tell you look for strength
By just looking within,
But do not take advice from me,
I am just a pen.