I think that this poem isn’t about a color of a crayon, but feelings of not being accepted, not loved, and a desperate search for a place to call your own. Even at the end, the purple crayon says who ever takes them doesn’t see them as who they are. They see them as violet rather than purple. I think that the author had a stroke of intelligence in realizing that pruple doesn’t fit the Roy G Biv sequence, therefore purple was the color to be.

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