The pen is mightier than the sword, they say.
Instilling hope, unveiling a curse, she said.
But I am that piece of paper that holds all evidence.
Was once blank space, a clean slate.

Your pen was the one who has shaped
Me as I am today.
I hold your secrets, your love, even in your dismay.

I was once smooth and plain,
But now crumpled, and ruined,
Marked all over with your stains.

But who is to say that everything that was written
Was ever all that bad?
I can hold the key to someone’s success,
I can cheer someone who was sad,
And keep distances close even when they are apart.
A pen and paper is a lovely couple,
It is a wonderful combination for a wonderful birth.
But the two come hand in hand,
You cannot leave one without the other.

Hence, a gift of a pen is a satisfying idea,
But the gift of paper must follow suit.
What is a pen without its pulp,
To record any secret, ideas,
And even to instill hope.