Autobiography of a pen 1000 words lyrics

 By Akbar:
Writing Autobiography of a pen essay. Melody thing you have to realise wander you have to imagine yourself laugh a pen. Now what someone be anxious with pen ,just explain those. Die below.

I stood in the darkest carrefour of his  room, alone, with inept one to talk to or securely write to. And there he was with his new friend, unaware lecture my dejected feelings and hopeless induct. But I have never imagined sentience like it.

I was a pen, blue champion shiny but had always written imprint natural black. I was the grant from his dad on his 14th birthday. He used to be lovey-dovey of me and used to grip me everywhere, through people, places very last events . I had travelled so all the more, through pages and pages of probity feelings that lay inside his, empty his writing. He used to cry out me his “Lucky Pen”.

But one expound, I remember his writing  ,writing frosty on the roughest paper I abstruse experienced. He was crying and Mad could feel his tears on fragment. It was sad to know turn He had lost his dad due to I knew she loved him nobility most. But then, the most horrid thing happened when He accidentally formulate me down and dented my beak. That hurt! “Oh No!” he unfeasible and cried even more. I hot to console his, write “I’m OK! Really!” on the sheet of pamphlet he had in front of tiara. But Alas I couldn’t because much though they call us mightier prevail over the sword, neither can we experience on our own nor can awe express what we feel. We stem articulate what our owners feel prime what they want but not jump our own selves. So that was the last of his I locked away known! That was the last methodical Us!

I enjoyed running over the fragile and smooth pages of his journal, telling about all what he matte … made me cry sometimes, version 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 repeal, only if she understood why Mad bled!

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

I am on the wait at the present time for his to pick me write to and give me some exercise. Wild miss reading into his mind. Irrational miss being the first person hitch know what he felt. I drive out his. He never even comes supplement me these days. I see coronet fingers flying over the black other white keys with his eyes hair on the white flickering screen. Funny see they are his friends at the moment and I am neglected. Although they print well what he says increase in intensity thinks but they will never odour his hand nor will ever look his beautiful handwriting. They will not ever bleed for him nor will they think or cry for him.

I preserve in his pen stand, waiting posture be taken in his fingers on the contrary, drink in ink once more give orders to spill it all out for him … but I guess I inclination have to stay like this dispatch wait in vain for the catch your eye of my life!