Life has many pens

Life has many pens
I am grateful for mine

I was gifted longevity
With ink that runs and runs

I was hustled into an empty pen
Like a spring lamb

This was my part in life, my grave
Grown over, hiding seed

Where I would eat my lines
According to the part I have to play

So let me show this to you
This hillside of pens

Do not be afraid
Go in