Pens live, pens die,
Pens smile, pens cry
They etch my soul between the lines
Taking over all the times
I could never explain myself with rhyme,
It's absurd how my head and hand are intertwined
The pens the grit, my brains the grime
It takes over my wrist, upon it's own mind
And it pours words,
It pours hurt,
Flows of happiness
Or the sticky syrup
Of something ******

It's kinda funny how your tools use you