I Am The Refill

I am the refill 

Perpetually sleeps within the widened lap of pen

When the writer wakes me up I move to leave all reluctancy and fragility

I add pages and pages of creations by the creator

The stimulus of a writer triggers my spirit to create more and more

This is my generosity and benevolence 

But alas!

When the last drop of mine is finished

I am simply thrown outside very mercilessly 

No one reminisces my dedication, commitment and sacrifice

No one recognises the beautiful pages written by me

It rampantly hurts me, extinct my inspiration to create 

No one loves me, no one aspires to keep me as a souvenir 

This is my pain, this is my sorrow, this is my affliction

But still, I relish my power to create, cherish my creation and enjoy my past

I am the refill, I am the refill......