Broken crayon
grimy orange,
Smudges of
dirt, of love,
...
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Good poem. Sad but good. Everyone starts out as a child full of the colorful bright hope of Crayon dreams, and then for some the crayons are broken and forgotten as is childhood and hope.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? this is the same poem no? I thought I had commented before? well it's the same? good one? ?
I really love this poem. We all get caged into the reality of adulthood.