The Pen

Reputation, respiration, I breathe within the pen.
Divination, exhalation, I bleed within the pen.
Degradation, desperation, I need what’s in the pen,
To set me free, the lock, the key. I need what’s in the pen.

Letters fly like birds on high, it seems the pen relieves me.
When I speak both truth or lie, it seems the pen believes me.
It’s nose is runny, sad and funny, it seems the pen will tease me.
I give it life, I take it’s soul, it seems the pen does need me.

Blackened rooms, a field, a tomb, nowhere the pen can’t go.
So light yet filled with tons of hope, nowhere the pen can’t grow.
Silent yet the loudest voice, nowhere the pen can’t scream.
Without a brain yet filled with thought, nowhere the pen can’t dream.

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