Font Color=darkvioletshocking Pen Poem by Jane Meyer

The first time was an accident,
the shock came as a surprise.
I thought the batteries were dead,
which wasn’t very wise,
and it resulted in my verbal cries.

“OW! ” is what I said,
as I dropped the pen.
“Man, that really hurt,
I won’t do that again.”
But, of course, it wasn’t long ‘til then.

I clicked the pen a second time,
to be sure of what I’d felt;
that searing electric pain,
that made my hand feel like it’d melt.
It was equal to that of a blooming welt.

But I liked the experience,
like sweets given to a little boy,
and I craved it like a drug.
Why did I derive a joy,
from the pain caused by this toy?

Is there something in our nature,
that sees there’s something we could gain,
by inflicting pain upon ourselves?
Do you think that maybe, we would go insane,
if we never caused ourselves some pain?

(Sorry another rhyme pattern failure. Suggestions?)