The Pen
My pen is flowing
And my words are growing
The paper is filled
With words written down from feelings killed
1,2,3 paper 4
One paper after another and I still have more
The pen is going on and on and on and on
It's just not wanting to leave my paper alone
The pen keeps my word between it, the paper, and me
And unlike anyone else, it doesn't interrupt me
It doesn't makes me mad
It's just there for me when I'm sad
The paper is available anytime
It lets me write whatever is on my mind
Words being expressed
With a great deal of madness and happiness
Anytime I need it, it's there
Morning, noon, or night, for my feelings to be shared
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