By Eugenia Rogers 

I’m fine.

I can’t be better than this present state.

Of course, I’m alright.

They say, “chill, it’s just a pen.”

But it’s not just a pen.

I lost hold of my dreams, 

my hopes, 

by losing that pen.

It’s not just a pen. 

Now I feel helpless, 


without my pen,

 I’m hopeless! 

 It’s not just a pen! 

 As I lay down and count the rafters on the ceiling, 


I hope my pen has not been broken. 

The void in my heart will never be repealed. 

The emptiness in my hands will never be filled. 

It’s not just a pen.

I’m fine 

I can’t be any better than this present state

Of course, I’m alright.

Who am I kidding? 

Why am I pretending?

 You can never understand because you are not me.

 And my pen is not your pen. 

Yes I am making this a big deal because it is! 

Let me mourn my lost pen. 

Don’t shut me up. 

Don’t run away from me.

 I’m only sad because I lost my pen. 

Because I lost my being.