I have a pen
It doesn’t write very well
The ink is all run out
Like a dried up well
It’s been used to write of love
And also sorrow and truth
The literature it’s helped to create
Reminds me of my youth
But now it writes no more
As well used pens will do
So now it sits in a drawer
As a reminder of how I used to be
And what I used to do
I’ll buy a new pen
Start a new page
And write words, maybe ten
Or twenty
Or until im of old age
And when this pen runs out
I’ll start with a new
And keep it as a reminder
Of how I used to be
And what I used to do
I had a pen
It didn’t write very well
The ink was all run out
Like a dried up well
With this new pen
I’ll write of love
And also sorrow and truth
And remind myself
Of how I was in my youth
Author’s Note:
I wrote this piece as a reminder of how I used to be when I was younger. I was forced to mature at a young age and quickly took to writing as a coping mechanism, this piece represents my way of writing, I suppose.
Lacey Anderson | 14 | Missouri, USA | @prettygrll_lacey on Instagram
