My Pen

My pen,
My pet .
My pen dries up,
My pet dies up.
Her inkpot will miss him.
My pen ,
My pet dries out.

Who shall write the next page?
With what shall we write the next page with?
With whom will I be given the next generation from?
My pen,
My pet,
My pen dies out.

My pen,
My insurance,
My pen, my let.
Now that you are dead,
Am I wholesome again?

©Hurmphery the poet
*The wordsblacksmith*