A Pen

Day and night I sat there. Waiting for your magic touch that would send millions of ideas through my black ink. Only one ever makes it to the page, but that never bothered me, because I got to hold on to the rest. They were my payment for coming closer to death with each masterful swirl. I just wish I had the time to write them down, but my ink has almost run out, and soon you will be forced to move on.

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