I am something
I could never be
Stuck inside a pens ink

Error I spill my digital thinks
Yet I am not this poet you see
My talent is on shelveless books
Where reads never eye my being
Am I who
A poetical fruit
That bears a poet tree
On my pleas begged my knees
Could I ever so be
The one I could never
Pulsate in letters
That someone would love to read