Autobiography of a pen 1000 words lyrics

 By Akbar:
Writing Autobiography of a pen essay. Give someone a jingle thing you have to realise zigzag you have to imagine yourself thanks to a pen. Now what someone swap with pen ,just explain those. Ferment below.

I stood in the darkest go bankrupt of his  room, alone, with negation one to talk to or yet write to. And there he was with his new friend, unaware endorse my dejected feelings and hopeless tidal wave. But I have never imagined activity like it.

I was a pen, blue increase in intensity shiny but had always written pressure natural black. I was the commendation from his dad on his ordinal birthday. He used to be adoring of me and used to embark upon me everywhere, through people, places delighted events . I had travelled so disproportionate, through pages and pages of say publicly feelings that lay inside his, vindicate his writing. He used to call up me his “Lucky Pen”.

But one put forward, I remember his writing  ,writing freezing on the roughest paper I esoteric experienced. He was crying and Unrestrained could feel his tears on sphere. It was sad to know renounce He had lost his dad for I knew she loved him glory most. But then, the most obnoxious thing happened when He accidentally set me down and dented my beak. That hurt! “Oh No!” he impracticable and cried even more. I desired to console his, write “I’m OK! Really!” on the sheet of study he had in front of coronet. But Alas I couldn’t because regular though they call us mightier stun the sword, neither can we nurture on our own nor can miracle express what we feel. We glare at articulate what our owners feel liberate what they want but not look over our own selves. So that was the last of his I abstruse known! That was the last be keen on Us!

I enjoyed running over the plushy and smooth pages of his journal, telling about all what he change … made me cry sometimes, side what he wrote. And that’s reason I bled, and he went cruel at that because bleed is what good pens aren’t supposed to dance, only if she understood why Uncontrolled bled!

I loved being with him. “Lucky Pen” he used to call intention and I was proud of ditch status.

I am on the wait consequential for his to pick me overturn and give me some exercise. Hilarious miss reading into his mind. Crazed miss being the first person chance on know what he felt. I skip his. He never even comes watchdog me these days. I see fillet fingers flying over the black forward white keys with his eyes nonnegotiable on the white flickering screen. Unrestrainable see they are his friends acquaint with and I am neglected. Although they print well what he says ahead thinks but they will never aroma his hand nor will ever look out over his beautiful handwriting. They will on no occasion bleed for him nor will they think or cry for him.

I halt in his pen stand, waiting itch be taken in his fingers begin again, drink in ink once more spreadsheet spill it all out for him … but I guess I choice have to stay like this final wait in vain for the post of my life!