Pen
is my
name
Pen is my name,
and I love lots of apples,
pineapples are
also quite good.
I get picked up
and used
to stroke fine
lined paper,
to mark and record
the whatever.
“Get your pen out!”
is not something I
often hear,
but I am sometimes
pronounced with an is.
I’m used everywhere,
multiple colours,
creating a scene
or a story.
I can be bought
for a trifle,
mostly given jobs mundane,
routine,
I am usually
covered in plastic,
my blood ink.
Once I dry up,
I am quickly
thrown and replaced,
like many of my
friends who live
in the suburb of Stationery.
I’m planning the
future,
though known for
my past,
Pen is my name,
come down and hold
me
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
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