Such quiet,
Soft voices
With such power in their words
That I cannot find my own
Yet when they finish,
A cute smile
And whispered thanks
While I just colour in
Unable to stay
Between the lines
In this dark watercolour
In purples and blues
And bruises and scars
Stand outside
With wooden flowers
With rotten apples
Swinging heavy from the tree
A blue coat
And a world you made up
Out of someone else's fantasy

Paint stains the clean
Brown black-tipped rosettes
An array of brushes
In all different sizes
In all different shapes
Choose the smallest
To only outline the clouds
The swirling patterns on your page
Four clicks of a lighter
Before a blue flame erupts
The panicked breaths
Forced to slow
When others are home
Because your problems are your own
Yellow and grey cards
Will take you back to hell come morning
A pink coat you find yourself wearing despite everything
And black triangles surrounded with grey
As you question what brought you here,
What made the freezing morning
Finally slip by