Box of Crayons

King,
Oh king of colour,
King of dreams,
Of race and crayon box

Feel the drawing battle,
Sense its scribbling coming,
And unite the brothers,
Blue, orange, purple,
With pride and patterned paint,

Once more
Take those dreams
And love each child
Each painted pastel child

And like box of crayons
There is no dogmatic adoration
Not from the king,

But still the crayons fight

The king loves them all,
King of colour,
With equal love,
The Kings a dreamer

But the red-green battle continues,
Melting and snaps in half,
Each painted pastel child
Against his rainbow kin

Poor King,
King of colour,
His spectrum tears melt
Like his children to heaters,

All his crayons are broken
And he has nothing left to love
But monotonous remains
The beautiful colours

Gone.