To My Pen
I write with you, to you,
to say that I hate you.
Whenever I attempt to write,
your ink is too dry to write.
Then I press you to my paper with vehemence,
and all of your ink pours out with vehemence.
My frustration with you endless,
and your fellow pens are endless.
It’s as if there is some blackhole, behind my couch, to which you’ve all gone.
Where have all of you gone!
Copyright © Daniel Carter | Year Posted 2016
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