My Many Shades of Magenta

I found myself in a crayon box And then upon a pair of socks I was once the color of a geranium And they put me in an sanitarium But when the good things came about I seemed to always be left out There’s not much of me in the sea And in a rainbow I’ll never be They confuse me with fuchsia a lot What an insult from that I got I guess I’ll have to be content To be on a shirt of some quirky gent Sometimes I sit around and pout When I end up on a toe with gout But the truth of the matter is to be That there aren’t that many shades of me