A box, 24 count, lined in rows
Of colors so vibrant and bright
They entered and drew all over my woes
And let me see the light.
As they scribbled and scrabbled and messed with my head
I felt a change taking place
Those crayons allowed me to be led
And my emotions left without a trace
By being covered by these superficial additions
I was controlled, fixated on what’s next
Each new color was like a magician
I was but a flat character in a text.
And as the colors piled on each other
My world was fading to black.
For as tempting as it was to just add another
They were only replacing what I lack
Because covering up your thoughts with layers of show
Only brings you back and reveals your woe.