Get Your Own

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