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By Lorain

All our pens just disappear They're never there, they're never here We even have a special pot To keep them in - but in they're not. And even when I find a pen (A case, in fact, of not where but when) Chances are that it will leak, not work or have a nasty squeak. Red ones, blue ones, green and black Taken and seldom ever put back It's quills we need to use, I think ... So long as we don't run out of ink.

Current vote: 8.0 / 5

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February 6, 2010 00:20brad1990

cute

February 7, 2010 00:32Disruptive Silence

haha i think everyone has this problem. i love how you wrote a poem about it. very good

September 22, 2010 14:50Wingless

I love this! Its so nice to not read something tragic and miserable! and I think we all have this problem...