The following is an older poem I dug out from my files… I rewrote it, though 🙂 Hope you enjoy!

I am the lonely white crayon,

sitting in your tethered, dented crayon box.

I’m imprisoned and forgotten,

yet I wait to be set free.

The world deems me worthless.

Because, why would anyone want me

when there is red, who has a purpose,

and is the color of hearts and glee?

Or green, who is the color of nature?

Or blue, who is the sky and the sea?

They can try, but no one can see me

on a standard sheet of white paper.

So while you color in that tree,

I rot in the box, unable to share what I have

to offer.

Because I was never given a chance.

I crave the joy of being held, to be greater.

I want freedom.

You shatter my hope, my dreams

when you shove all those colors

next to me; it makes me want to scream.

Red rubs against me — just for his humor.

Black constantly reminds me that she is supreme

with her ability to outline and color.

They torture me with their beauty.

When you do notice me,

you treat me like a slave.

To correct mistakes, you use me.

Yet I’m strong and brave;

I persevere

when you rub me against the paper forcefully

to remove the colors that are already engraved.

I persevere

even though the world fails to see my true beauty.

When used on black, I can portray

extraordinary works of artistry.

I am the color of stars that are sprayed

across a mystical night sky.

I am the color of snow that children

take delight in.

You can torture, marginalize

and discriminate against me.

You can even snap me in half;

but you can never break me.

You don’t realize

that I will always harbor poise and dignity.

My wish is that one day,

someone will appreciate my inner quality

and not judge me by my color.