i am nothing but a stick of crayon in the measly hands of a child handled carelessly with a hold too tight with skin scraping against roughness bleeding red all over until they are satisfied all smiles until im not so sharp and new and the time comes to be replaced all love until the tenderness turns into a break and the time comes for me to be thrown aside
my heart will bleed everything you ask it to even if you decide i'm not your favorite color after all