The Pen Needs Some Rest - II

My pen will not write anymore.
It has lost its soul
That sings happily.
Its emotions will never flow freely.
I seal its cap and
Keep it aside,
Giving it a glance
That speaks a thousand words.

"You recorded my sorrow;
You wrote down my joy.
I wrote beautiful lines about morrow
As an innocent boy.
You've been a trusted friend
Ever since I learnt to write.
I never knew this will be an end.
A bullet should I bite.
Farewell, dear pal.
I'll miss you a lot.
I now suddenly recall
The day you were bought."

I'm sorry .
My pen will really not write anymore.
'Cause there is no ink in it, and
The ink bottle is empty.


PS: I'm tempted to add ':P' at the end of this poem.