The Pen owns the poem.

The pen owns this poem.
Doesn’t matter when i get out of bed,
I can write a poem whenever i want
Right from the stem.
It’s the ink or led
That spills out of the pen to make a poem,
Sometimes in life
you just need to spill out your ink or led
And give the world the magic you wish and beg.
But the way you fall is when you run out
Never sit in doubt
You and your pen work together to put a smile
on your face
Write a poem to fill your heart with grace.
Sure I wrote this poem
But at the end of the day
The pen owns the poem.
Zen into a cave
To find yourself in your mind,
and see the words you can find.
You and your pen work together
Because What is a pen without a poet,
And what is a poet without their pen?
I wrote this poem,
But the pen owns it.