When writing

Sometimes a fool 

this pen

It's forceful desire to stain

the white

The untouched paper

Yet like the tree 

it stole from

It has a story to share

though many do not care

So in a scribble of blue

A colour of calm

it spirals out of control

Overlapping it's tale

Becoming darker

and darker

in it's conclusion

It's end

Till the blue 

appears black

Mysterious

in it's own way