I am the Pen

Well, I am kind of tired, but know I need to get into the habit of posting on this thing. Thus, this will be yet another pointless post. Though one day, when the mood strikes, I promise I will put up a real post. But not today.
I already put up one of my favorite poems by someone else, so...I guess its time to put up some of my own work, huh? Well lets see...
As a rule, I write on a more serious note. I guess I would call myself a modern transcendentalist. (Not New Age...its different!!! =P ) This, however, is atypical of my usual writing; I like it anyway. So here it is in all its comedic glory, I am the Pen.

Jen asked James if she could borrow me.
My inferior had become dull and was no longer useful.
So James reached into his black bag,
Pulled out a smaller bag and grabbed me.

From his rough boyish hands,
to her smooth scented ones I went.
She placed me in her lustrous locks
for just a moment as she thought.

I was held idle for what seemed like forever.
So anxious I was to spill my black ink
onto that boring page!
People are nothing but vessels for my greatness.

I am the poet.
I am the artist.
I am the creator.

Jen's hand is in motion!
She moves me from head to page!
I feel my ink poor out.
Beautiful strokes explode from my tiny point.

The period nears, I can feel it!
Then she slowly but surely uses me
to dot and end the sentence.
I no longer thirst for that climatic experience.

I am the poet.
I am the artist.
I am the creator.
I am the pen.

Crap above written by yours truly.
(This is really just a draft. So yes, I know its imperfect. All the same, comments welcome.)