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.