Alajah Rivera

The red pen looked at the paper in desperation

As it thought upon what it would write

It danced around the fact it had to put an F on a paper

Or a line through the sentence it couldn’t comprehend

The pen bled of sorrow and began to weep as he could not put his face to the paper

He laid horizontal on the desk as his thoughts disintegrated

He was used for the marking of thoughts that ponder amongst him

He wore his cap as a cover to disguise his feelings

The pen could mark the Starbucks cup in front of him

But could not write the devastating emotions that flowed through him

He was the one made fun of in the class

Because his ink could never last long enough for him to finish his phrase

He was the one always under the teachers fingers

Considered himself the teachers pet

The other colors weren’t very fond of him

Because when he spoke he soaked through the paper leaving the table stained and wet

Everyone thought he was angry

But in fact he was always sad

This bright red pen had depression

And no one understood