Come my dear and take my pen,
for my word doesn't fit what it means.
Come my friend and take my pen,
Wasted ink on each I tell.
Come stranger and take my pen,
I am not good, not a writer to own this pen.
Come and take it,
but my pen will never be the same.
I owned it by heart,
he knows what I feel.
The sadness and the rhythm,
we together wrote down in the thin line,
Was the theme we wanted,
who worked on with this style.
Come and take my pen,
I wouldn't mind.
Let see how you're going to add colors,
when my pen doesn't want to write.
When someone ask for your pen, let them have it. They can have it but they can never use it. -V.E