My Pen Knows My Pain

He knows my pain

He lives in your desk, on your table, in your pencil box. 

You think he is only a object but I think he has emotions too. 

Sometimes he makes me inspire to write up which is in my mind. 

He makes me feel that all is not over yet. 

If I feel alone, he usually say that am here for the creation. 

He is my friend now, with him I write diary everyday. 

Am not a great writer but he named me Literary boy. 

Sometimes I feel sorrow but never feel alone cause of his presence in pen stand under the table lamp. 

He makes me always enthuse to create a new genre with his touch of ink. 

For you he may be the pen just only but for me he is my inspiration of writing. 

He is not a object anymore 

He knows me, the real me

He knows my pain, 

He knows.