Oh, foolish pen, you think you’re grand,
holding the power to change the world in my hand.
But with your ink that bleeds, I can’t withstand.
You leave a smudgy mess
that is hard for teachers to translate,
they think that I am on some childish rage.
And they mark my paper with a bad grade.
When I desire you the most
your ink runs dry and becomes a ghost.
Once again my grades are toast.
Oh pen, when you leak its a sorry sight,
But somehow you manage to stain the white
And turn my face red and bright.
You’re full of promise, then you fail
But when you change the world, I will be the first one to hail.