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.