Implement-ation

I am a pen, but what then 

when nobody wants a pen, 

or to read.

They all have nails to be hammered, 

so I am a hammer. 

For that’s all they see. 

What becomes of this pen after blow, 

after blow?

Ink dried up inside

No beckon to flow.

Lying a stub 

The pages left white

Not a nail left standing 

In the sallow light.