Dream For A Crayon

I colored, and still do,

And was taught from the get-go,

That if I outlined first,

With a crayon...you know?

It would create definition,

And I'd stay INSIDE THE LINES,

And control my volition.

So many colors,

And they all got along,

Like a grand symphony,

A melodious song.

I could stay in my room,

Tossing crayons to and fro,

Sometimes even skip lunch,

I was mesmerized...you know?

Orange and brown, yellow and red,

My friends like no other,

Respite from my own head.

So many colors,

And they all get along,

A grand symphony,

A melodious song.

Then as I grew older,

And looked out at the world,

The colors, they turned on me,

Everything unfurled.

White and black argued, their reasoning blurred,

And only a handful of colors realized it was absurd.

The outside, it is darkened,

But the prism needs light,

That's how colors exist,

Can't we just make this right?

So many colors,

They all used to get

Like a grand symphony,

Like a melodious song.

About me,

There is nothing important to say,

I'm just weaving a dream for a crayon today.

LIZZPAINTZ