There was a time that I'd forgotten
when the days were dark and blue.
Trapped within the crayon box
I wished for brighter hues.

Wrestled in a wrapper
I was labeled by my shade.
Treated like the outcast
Melting in their cheap parade.

I watched my morals bleed
Tainted as the colors blend.
Murky pools of semblance
Stiff and rigid afraid to bend.

"Do it like the others,"
The instructions that they said
Sinking in the sea of masses
Afraid to lead thus I was led.

I was the crayon soldier.
They knew me by my lines
Drawn by my integrity
Sharpened by my mind.

I feared they'd never see
The depth of my true worth.
For they only saw the color
That I've donned since my first birth.

I've learned to brush aside
The bitter darker energy.
Colored outside the lines.
Embraced my creativity.

Unwound my paper wrapper
Took my first free breath.
Learned to have real laughter
Plotted out my future steps.

Now I create life on a page
Giving peace to aching hearts.
This crayon has left the box -
Share my truths within my art.