Broken Pen As I set and stare off into oblivion I notice a small broken pen lying on the floor. Although it is an inorganic object we share an alikeness. We have both bee broken, kicked around, stepped on, and ignored by many people, yet we both maintain hope that some one will com along and pick us up. My sorrow grows for it for I share its pain. The bell rings and once again everyone steps over the broken but still usable pen. As I too leave the room, I pick up the pen and put it in my pocket. No one likes to be left behind.
The End
asjdriewuri jdkf oiaesjrs · Thu Oct 21, 2004 @ 04:57am · 0 Comments |