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I found a hand full of pens when I cleaned out my purse

I don’t know where they all came from, to make matters worse.

I don’t know what happened, because I never would steel.

But it’s obviously a problem. It’s BIG and it’s real.

I do love a good pen, they inspire me to write.

It tickles my heart when ink glides against white.

I day dream about pens with the nice finger grips

Yes, It’s definitely love when pen meets finger tips.

That moment I find one alone on a floor,

 Dr’s office, bank, or grocery store.

It hurts that they are so lonely, so scared

I’ll admit it’s a weakness, a sickness, I’m impaired.

I don’t know when it happens, it’s subconsciously done.

And it’s not like I steal them, I like to think of it as adoption, with love!

So if you lend me your pen, please lend me your worst,

Or it might just end up in my bottomless purse.

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