I'm tall and skinny and full of ink
I come in many different colors; like black, blue, red, and pink
I spend my time writing lessons
I lose more ink with every session
I wish my ink would stop going to waste
It feels like they use it up with intentional haste
I want to be free to draw and write
All alone, I'm left here to wallow in spite
Here they come to use me again
A spelling lesson, if I'm not mistaken
They try to write, but without prevail
They shake, and shake and I begin to feel ill
I have no more ink, I'm all used up
So much for my dream of writing my own stuff
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