If I was a crayon,
I'd be broken, lost and forgotten
at the bottom of a kindergartners backpack.
I'd have flecks of other crayons
covering my outside skin.
I'd be melted down and cut into
from misuse and misplacement
I'd draw foggy lines
color memories with clouds.
Full lines are broken,
pictures with cracks i'll never fill.
If I was a crayon; I'd be a light gray.
To depict the color of my soul,
and all the smoke left behind from bridges burned and memories i'd rather not take part.
There's days sneaking out wasn't as big a problem as making sure to stay inside the lines pre-drawn.
The difference between crayons, and anything else is markers and pencils
are clean.
And crayons can't seem to stay like that .
Crayons are weak.


I am a crayon.