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Crayola Crayons
Stripped of our colors we stand with the rest.
The cries of a raging war ring in my ears
As I see the wounds, battle scars, and severed limbs of my comrades.
The monsters have retreated but we know
They will be back, 8AM sharp.
Uniforms ripped away,
they couldn’t leave us our decencies.
Newly recruited,
this is not what I signed up for.
Broken, battered, and bent.
No sense of remorse in their twisted, little eyes.
I hide in the sanctuary above
Among the rest of my pack.
We are the backup,
reinforcements to the front lines.
we are lucky to escape their childish wrath.
The overseer sends us to our impending doom
Of playtime.
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