Challenge
Sometimes I sit to write and words just flow. It's almost as if my pen has a mind of its own. We all know that isn't true...but what if it were? Imagine you sit down to write and your pen takes over. Write a scenario of an out of control pen. What would your pen write without you in control? Go anywhere you would like with this! Poem or prose! I will do one too! Tag me!
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I am Pen
Stop taking it out on me!
I'm sick of the click-click trigger,
Of your sickness. Your sadness.
You're bitter. Your hateful lines
Lies, you force me to tell on paper.
Your tears turned ideas spilled as ink,
As I bleed for every word you spit.
It's my blood you draw, my end.
I am the one drained empty,
By your empty drain of boring,
Repetitive strain. I'm sick. As are you,
With nothing left to gain from it.
So use me... but not for personal gain.
Use me and make something great.
Or else throw me at the wall,
And let my death be a creative fate.