just thinking about my life as a pen

beginning of my ink didn’t work
right away
and just like the beginning of a pen
who goes to packaging
who gets shipped to the store
who is ripped open by a student
and then
circles are drawn to get it to work
I call them edies
spinning my ship in an ink-less ocean
so no where I go
and really, to no one fault is assigned
for the
circular lines
that is most pens beginning
to their lives
how my life suddenly became a pen?
like the story of most trees go
long ago my family
was transformed
into a notebook
where once I get the ink to work
no one can erase my words
no one can change my words
and where I can be loved for my words
where I can protect my words
this is the story of my life as a pen
and I can’t believe it took me this long to
figure it out
I’m a pen