You see a pen

You see a pen, a fountain pen, Alone, no owner in sight. As you go fourth, see all to see, You find still ink inside! A poor old pen, no writing by men, No work poor pen can do. You grab, examine, took off the cap, Reflected what to do. Apart says take it, leave no trace, Another says "lost and found! " "But whatever I'll do" you say to you, "I'll take it just for now" A question of morals, have you sinned? "Surely I'm doing no wrong" But something within you says otherwise, "shan't do, though still, I long." The pen still there, in your hand, A calling to hard to resist. Like a bee to a flower, cat to string, Like Moses to the people he miss. As you ponder, what to do, An urge so strong engulfs you. "No ones there to see the sin", "No one to see my plan through". All the thoughts, both big and small, Come fourth, wreak havoc they do. You take the pen, you use it as yours, Guilt runs rampent in you. At the brink of insanity, right on the edge, You scream "can't take it anymore!" You drop the pen, the stinger, the string, Close the cap, and shut the door. At last, when everythings said and done, At ease, for these nightmares end. You place the pen back in it's spot, Never... again