I used to have a walk in closet.
It was not large, but that was just fine.
When i was 3 i took a purple crayon
And scribbled across the white wall that
My brain comprehended as a canvas.
4ft by 6ft.
That's about how big the closet was.
White,
White,
White,
Purple.
We never painted over.
When I was 9 I tried once more,
Only to find the purple crayon snapped.
Snapped with bite marks.
They could have simply told me no.
YOU ARE READING
Acosmist Dysphoria
PoetryAcosmist Dysphoria The writings of an uneasy adolescent Who believes in nothing.
