Email Poem

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Poem

You sicken me
Yes you
You who likes to borrow my pen
And never give it back
You asked to use it and I obliged
But don’t think you’re about to walk off it
I need that back 
I didn’t ask for your soul or anything
I just want my pen back
You don’t get it I know
To you it’s just an ordinary pen
To me it’s an extension of myself
A sacred instrument used to decipher life
It helps me discover new parts of myself
Connects me to my spirit in intimate moments created in silence
It documents my temperament
As I express the extent of my discontent
I can escape my present, resurrect my past, and peek into my future
I would rather give you all my money
Than for you to keep my pen
Maybe not all my money
Maybe just a dollar
So you can get your own pack of Bics

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