My Pen

This is my pen. It’s black
And I bought it for $2.90.
But you know, pens have potential.

They write my essays and
Get me through high school.
I fiddle with them when I’m bored, but
Pens have power.

They can stab someone in the heart
Or lift them to the heavens.
They can chain you to the past
Or take you away from the present.

My pen is only $2.90, but it has
The ability to start wars and
End them, in any sort of penmanship.

In cursive, or gothic, or bubble
They’ve gotten me out of all kinds of trouble.

Like that man over there who was framed for an act,
Words were able to bring his hope back.
Or the woman whose voice is never heard,
By pen she’s singing like a bird.

Pens bring us together,
The rich and the poor
Words may be wealthy, but
Not in gold.

They connect us, they free us to
Express ourselves
When it feels like no one else will listen.

We’ll write when we feel happy or sad,
Anxious or frustrated.
Books may die out, but
You can’t tell me words are outdated!

Jolly or melancholy,
Words give you a buzz, and
For us writers, words are our love.

We have the ideas, the
Pen is our mouthpiece,
Words are the outcome and
They are a masterpiece.

So pens have potential,
Pens have power.
When I hold it in my hand
I can write at any hour.

Changing the world and
Making people smile brightly,
All that potential
For only $2.90.

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