Rough Draft - Colorblind Crayons

A twisted web of loneliness
Broken from old poems-
A little boy sits alone:
Drawing with his crayons-

He draws with black,
Red and dark, mysterious
Looking paintings of dead men-
All covered in strange clothing
A reflection of self loathing-
Their eyes are bright and wonderous
A brilliant aura of their souls,
With each and every crawling figure
Each boy loses and begins to fall.

The crayon snaps, mid stroke
And in the wax the boy finds hope
To see the smearing red and black
Praying for the patience
That his parents fully lack-
He sits and ponders to himself
Waiting for the hour,
When his parents lonely calling
Will take him for his shower.

Whipping off his sins
With the colors of the rainbow
They sit and dazzle in the light
And cover sorrow 'morrows-

Its time for bed,
They rub his head-
But beneath his pillow lies,
A new notepad
With colour crayons
To keep his flow alive.

All night dreaming
Drawing, seeing-
visions flying
through his head,
burning, aching,
Upon his bed-

He lay there in
his violent slumber;
fighting off the painful hunger
"draw until you draw no more
and you shall seal the final score."