Poems

Pen

Life is in pen.

As you go, you write your story. You can write on the stories of others, too, giving them feedback on their writing.

You can make as little of an impact as you want, depending on how hard you press. You can mark the page with quiet wisps of ink, or create big strokes that seem to explode off the page.

But no matter how hard you try, you can never remove the ink. You can scribble over it, sure, but people can always reconstruct it from the rest of the page.

When your ink runs out, you're done. You can write no more, correct no more. There becomes nothing left for you. People rarely actually finish their stories.

So they get crumpled up and thrown out.