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
can you tell i have abandonment issues?