“Hey, hi,” Whispered the pen
“Write with me, write, my friend
Because ink stays for miles
Ink never dies-“
But the humble pencil spoke
and said, “Don’t listen to this thick-inked bloke.
ink can be tear stains
Of an artist’s lost lives
and can be dangerous
telling permanent lies.”
The pen spoke up once more,
trying to accomplish what he started before.
“But my friend, listen to me
you won’t regret your choice, you see”
The pencil argued back, yet again
hoping to beat his pin-headed friend
“you write wrong, so you erase
and pencil something in it’s place
Pens and markers smear and stain
liquid blackness falls like rain”
To this, the pen just said
“Don’t pay attention to this dull-head
I think he’s already running out of lead
But look at me, and grasp your mind,
I am pure elegance, the best kind!
Pencils snap and break, easily severed
But me, my friend, I’ll stay forever!”
I shook my head at this pointless fight
I wouldn’t use either, they both weren’t right
I left my chair and went to my computer
He didn’t talk back, and I was done sooner.