A Writer's Pen

A writer's pen is a magical thing,
A mystery, I don't know,
I marvel how the writer manages
To get the ink to flow.

For every time I try to write
No words appear on the page,
And from that point on, all hope is gone,
And I'm quickly filled with rage.

I curse the pen and slam it down
Then plead for it to write,
For if it doesn't move real soon,
This poem could take all night.

After hours of pleading with the pen,
I throw it into the trash
And choose another writing utensil
From my brand new stash.

With new hopes and new spirit,
I hold my head up high.
But to my dismay, my page stays blank, 
No matter which pen I try.

And so I give up,
Losing all hope I ever had.
I yell and scream while I discard
My pens and paper pad.

And after I've discarded 
Every single pen,
I make a vow not to try 
To ever write again.