Oh no, no, I can't find my pen, I really lost it,

I cried like a baby; I can't believe I lost my best friend

It sees me naked, perfectly imperfect and still loves me

My book, my pen, my hearts, my sins, they are always with me

Recording the rhythm of my hearts’ song in colored ink

Or when reflecting on blemishes and when I am happy, giggling and nose is tickled pink.

Allows honesty to be shared from my heart, I close my eyes. and the writing starts

Dictating my life, giving voice to the good, the bad, and the ugly parts.

Helping me to heal from shots fired, I didn't duck, many of my wounds are self-inflicted.

I’m in my feelings, I don’t have a best friend anymore, something gonna shake, I got this!

Now I'm stuck texting my thoughts on my cell, this feels cold, unnatural, wrong, feels flicked.

I shouldn't be this upset, it's just a pen it will be replaced,   

I'm just frustrated that I lost something that helps me wash my sins and clean my face.

I’m the one to blame, honest is a bitter pill to taste

Lesson learned, the hard way, the usual road. of course,

Never imagined losing a pen would make me feel so out of sorts.