The pen glides across the white paper, leaving marks of blue ink in its trail. Each mark helps to form a letter, each barely reaching halfway between the preprinted blue lines. Each letter is written side-by-side, forming words at a rapid pace. The words flow out of the pen, without thought or care from anyone or anything. They try to form meaning, something that someone will look back upon and say "I understand" or "Wow". But they do not form anything, just lay in a hopeless heap, a poem teetering on death, a story that never was. The pen stops, lifting from the page. It finds that its end is being chewed, slowly and mechanically. Suddenly it is brought back to paper, scratching out one word and replacing it with another. The pen pauses after that, waiting. A heavy hearted sigh later and the pen moves quickly and efficiently across each line, rendering it indecipherable. It is a mercy killing to words that never should have been, cutting its slow, painful death short.