In my hand is a pen,
a gift from the men.
Thrown in land of poets,
hand squirts out sweats.
Crumple the staring naked paper,
watch it fly in the air like vapour.
It was untouched with ink,
because I was numb to think.
My creative inability left me nothing but something.
I still have my ink and paper.

I've never been serious,
so, the judges are furious.
I can't spell the word ten,
so, they  start to conduct a search in my mind then.
I let them in while they be my guest.
I'm a shame but they considered me first.

Oops! quit that mission,
unlike the others, I've got no vision.
Spare me, in case you find the word ten.
"Such a useless being, put her in the lions den!"
If I'm to believe that, why have you given me another ink and paper?

I've been given a seat, at a show of the talent,
yet my hand is mute and my brain is silent.
I have to write but all I do wink.
Caught by the host and now I wish I could sink.
I'm incapable, that's why I never try.
By the end of the contest, I know I'll cry.

It's my fault that I've never been the best.
For the lazy who doesn't learn, is bound to expect the worst.
Finally, I'm awarded with a designed crown in words Loser.
It didn't go that bad, did it?
I still have in addition, my untouched Ink and Paper.