Poem: The Plight of Ink Man

I am an ink man on a blank white page
I run from line to line in the hot air
I do not run for fun my feet they burn
I am stuck in a loop that does not end
I am in pain but do not write out help
There must be a way to end this for good
The man who writes this tripe has me in a trap
He says that if i don’t run he will die
But if i don’t stop to run i will die
Which life is worth more, his life or ink life
I can scratch out a pun and save the world
He can’t write a rhyme to save his own life
He just writes one word sounds, all in a line
And calls it a great thing, it runs me dry.

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