White Colored Crayon

The scars you left

On their bleeding open heart

Left them dying

Rolling on a hospital cart

But the jokes on you

For they have grown

Past every little game

Which you have thrown

They will progress

They will find their peace

You will fall

To the depths of hell's crease

Not in the afterlife

But in everyday strife

You will hurt just quite

Like the cut of a knife

This is you

This your fight

You’re the crayon in the box

The one colored white

Hell is all you’ve known

For no mark will be shown

Your meaning wavered

On such light colored paper

You stand tall

The others are worn down

But you do not realize

This is what makes you frown

You lack your meaning

You lack your purpose

For if you were only blue

You wouldn’t be surplus

Where’s your creativity

Can’t you see?

There’s other colored paper

Waiting on thee

You are to be worn

For there is strife

But you are a crayon

This is your life