A pen running out of ink assisted me with getting out my thoughts on to paper. These thoughts aren't really a poem. Unless someone comes around thinking it's a masterpiece without a signature. But still I could. I could sign my name at the bottom at top speed like signing my life away to this very pen. This pen I hold that I probably found on the side of a road has helped me through a lot. This pen has helped me pass a nursing test. This pen has helped me write a dozen speeches to give in front of church. This pen has helped me from taking too many pills or making a checkerboard on my wrist. This pen. So simple yet so ordinary.