The Purple Elephant

The Purple Elephant

He stomped his feet and roared in anger, desperately trying to get their attention.

He didn't understand why they never acknowledged his existence.

It was as if he was invisible to them. Could they not see? Could they not hear?

How could they not?

For with each passing day he grew. And the space in which they lived became smaller.

They never once realized that ignoring the problem made it bigger.

But there in the corner Trouble the elephant sat confused. With his purple skin scattered with pink polka dots on a old lumpy rug. That covered all the things the people were trying to forget.