The pen she holds leaves a blue trail,
A holy color adopted by none only than the sea and sky.
Yet, her eyes aren't pleased.
Black, in turn, is bold.
A pigment of courage and strength,
a color that paints the night,
which can narrow one's sight,
But on white paper contrasts well in the light
She wished the dark shade to come to her aid
Thus,her pen had to be black
From the paper to her drawers her hand searches for ink
With great effort, the pen is dismembered and its blue removed
The desired cartridge is not a perfect fit, though, this is the only pen she has.
Soon the room was splattered in black
The once favored hue had ruined the space in stains.
Worst yet, there was no more pen just pain