A lonely pen

I am a pen
Here to write
Tall, round and colourful.
I stand away from the other pens
Inside a simple, dull pencil holder
Lonely, unique and alone.
I see other pens stand on the other
Blue patterned pencil holder.
They all look so happy, unlike me.

I wait here in this black room
Patiently and calmly every day
For someone to use me,
Because that's why I'm here
But I remain untouched.
Maybe because I'm an expensive pen?
No one comes near me.
Am I really that bad?
I question myself sometimes.
I always wonder
Is there anybody there?