A person is like a pen and paper
Be it man or woman
Woman or man
They both write something on each other
Maybe leaving a lasting effect
Or just taking a note
Sometimes they just want to write
A pen can run out of ink
Leaving a work unfinished
Ready for another pen.
Sometimes pens are stolen,
Lost,
Broken,
Or tossed away,
Sold,
Hidden away for a rainy day that never comes,
From your right hand to someone's left hand
Then misused altogether.
How sad I'll be when this pen runs out of ink.
I found you one day on the floor outside
Someone had dropped you
In the midst of that you had been kicked around,
Stepped on
And mistreated.
I enjoy the way you write,
The way my hand has to be for you to work.
- Afrim Gjonbalaj (2005*)