Where's my pen?

Prolific poet pen
Mind exploding
Needs unloading
Again again again 

There and then is how
For if not
Will be forgot
They live in the now 

Cares not what the hour
3am
I need that pen
By morning will turn sour

Like conceiving new
Embryo made
Idea laid 
Pen made sure it grew.

Paper not a must
Back of hand
Will do grand
On my skin I trust.

poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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