Crayola Life
Life is like a box of crayolas at five.
Trying hard to stay inside a line defined by others;
trying hard to stay inside the line.
Too much pressure, powerful force pushing down;
I crack into pieces, fragments, pushed aside for another color
different yet the same.
Action repeat - instant re-run.
Life is like a box of crayolas,
many colors, all vulnerable to force, pressure.
Each color valuable blending difference.
Color alone beautiful;
color together special.
Life is like a box of crayolas standing by side by side,
never speaking, used by others over and over again.
Picked up to brighten day,
broken thrown away.
Life is like a box of crayolas.
One disappears, held too tight, invisible at night.
Yes, life is like a box of crayolas at five.
Freedom wanted, want denied.
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