Crayola Crayon Canyon
I'm tired of absorbing your depression.
Like you're the only person on Earth who has issues.
You think nobody understands your situation.
I don't believe you want anybody to understand.
Because that's what you believe makes you troubled but unique-
Strangely, it has given you purpose in life.
Makes you special-one of a kind.
You know, like the Crayola crayon with the funny name.
Perched in the corner of the box, forgotten.
The canyon that swallows its own echo.
I'm tired of inhaling your depression.
I wasn't put on this earth to be a canvas
for cutting. mashing and blue period slashings.
That's not "my" purpose in life.
My purpose is to be accepting of the happiness
that swirls all around me.
Your depression depresses me to no end.
I'm climbing out of your Crayola crayon flash flood canyon.
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